


might find a balance in the middle of the chaos

by stardustupinlights



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Anti-Hero Kougami Ryoken, Chemistry, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fun, Getting to Know Each Other, Hero Onizuka Gou, Hero Zaizen Aoi, Human Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Investigations, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Psychic Bond, Secret Identity, Torture, Vigilante Fujiki Yuusaku, Vigilante Homura Takeru, love square
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-01-12 10:53:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 45,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18445091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustupinlights/pseuds/stardustupinlights
Summary: In which Yusaku got his DNA messed up with, he's trying to find answers, Takeru is always late and he now has an alien child. Or something like that.(He also may be falling in love with someone he shouldn't.)





	1. sense of justice (origin)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scratchienails](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scratchienails/gifts).



> You can all blame scratchienails. I hope you like this. This is all exposition guys I'm not even kidding xD.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The first few times Yusaku bothers to try out vigilantism, he isn’t doing it out of the goodness of his heart or a sense of justice— well, perhaps that last part isn’t completely accurate, but the important thing to note here is that his only goal is revenge. He’s clumsy at first and way too reckless; the police almost caught him about four times in his first two weeks, which is about two too many for his taste, but back then he didn’t have the equipment, the knowledge or the experience he has now. It also never truly hit him that was he was doing was in fact punished by law until he was being held off at gunpoint by a special police unit, but even then he didn’t really _care_ that much.

Their reluctance to accept vigilantism as part of the city’s day to day life never lasted long in regards to him anyways, since he was too good at escaping their grasp and also not the first freak going around messing up criminal activity. He wouldn’t be the last either.

Yusaku didn’t have a name at first. If someone, some scared and shaken citizen asked about it, Yusaku would normally just shrug and leave. They came to give him several nicknames as a way to process the fact that a seemingly young teenager just saved their ass, but the tabloids loved to call him _‘UNKNOWN’,_ a name Yusaku thought was a bit too pretentious. It’s not like he could do anything about it though. It was either that or something like _‘Shadowman’_ or _‘Mystery Man’,_ some of the other less fortunate suggestions, and he was not going to accept such an awful, meaningless alias. _‘UNKNOWN’_ was at least was kind of cool-sounding, and fitted his objective; Yusaku did not want or need the recognition of public, but he got it anyways.

Yusaku was young when he started— around fourteen. No parents, barely a place to live, no money but a lot of fury and questions and abilities he couldn’t understand. He also wanted revenge, and most importantly, answers, to know why he is the way he is, why he and other five children were targeted, what exactly happened, who was behind it all, what their goal was and _who saved them._ His memories of the incident were fuzzy, but the torture, the probing, the testing— that was always fresh in his nightmares. The only positive he could find in all that negative were the voices in his head keeping him from breaking and going absolutely nuts, but he couldn’t even be sure if they were both real. One is still there, but the other…

It’s probably what kept him going all those years, what made him sneak out to street fights to learn about the underground dealings of Den City, to join a hacker posing as a hotdog vendor as his assistant, to train and push himself until he could barely stand on his feet every day. The voice in the back of his mind encouraged him all the way, keeping him motivated, and the memory of someone else’s filled him with a certain sense of urgency to find them he could never get rid of.

He never got attached to any of his foster homes because he didn’t know how to interact with them at all. He was told that it would only be temporary, that he would be moved somewhere more _‘appropriate’_ every time the families felt like Yusaku was too much to deal with. Told that there was nothing to worry about, that he would eventually be adopted.

Not that Yusaku could blame them; ever since he came back from being experimented on by mad scientists that claimed they would bring forth a new generation of humans there was something off about him that made them all keep their distance. Not that they _knew_ he had been an unwilling guinea pig, since the general public and the parents were sold a story about a serial kidnapper making their way around the country to sell children in a human trafficking ring and all the events were swept under the rug, never to be spoken of again. The names of the victims weren’t released, but it didn’t matter. People didn’t need to know what actually happened for him to be pointed at and gossiped about. If freak shows were still legal, maybe that’s where he would have ended up.

It probably looked easy on the outside, to be the odd one out, but it wasn’t. The first time he stepped into a shadow and came out through another, there was no one there to see him have a panic attack over it. He was a kid all alone, and no amount of superpowers would ever fix that. Not the strength, not the speed, not the healing and not the uncanny sixth sense for danger.

There was an emptiness to his life that wasn’t there before the experiments. Yusaku was still parentless, but that didn’t seem too bad before, when he was around other kids all the time and had loving caretakers at the orphanage. That was the first thing that changed. Government influence made sure nothing about the incident got out, the name of the organization responsible disappearing from any existing registry, and that no one got close to him for more than short periods of time. Yusaku was left by himself to get over his issues, since he could trust no one. Other than the monthly testing by their approved scientists to ensure nothing was amiss, he never got to hear anything about the other kids and he wasn’t allowed to search them out. The relocations were common and numerous; Yusaku didn’t get to memorize faces to be able to point them out from a crowd before he was being taken to the other side of the country again. Therapy was almost worthless for him; no one in the list of government-issued therapists knew how to deal with a victim of human experimentation, but he suspected after a while that he wasn’t the only one with problems talking to other people about the hazy memories.

To this day Yusaku couldn’t decide if the isolation from other people was worse than the torture. On most days, he could stand being alone. On others, his skin crawled with unknown needs and that voice deep in the back of his mind called for him, telling him to look, to search, to find the source. He didn’t exactly know what that voice was back then, only that it needed him, but it wasn’t long before doctors tried to drug him into normalcy and Yusaku had to start throwing pills down the drain at the tender age of nine.

 _I’m not crazy_ , Yusaku repeated to himself every single day, noticing odd changes in the adults’ speech patterns every time someone brought up where he went off to for six months, confirming his suspicions that something was off, that it wasn’t all in his mind. In school, he was the resident puzzle piece that didn’t fit in, that had a missing screw; Yusaku eventually stopped caring and talked to them in that foreign language the voice whispered in his ear to scare them away. It was all gibberish to them, but Yusaku could almost understand some of it, if he focused.

Yusaku forgot was childish happiness felt like really quickly, and wasn’t familiar with any similar feeling for the longest time.

The trauma of the situation, the nightmares that came with the PTSD, the pain that randomly struck his body at times, the flashbacks and his isolation from people he knew never really faded as much as they became a part of him that he adapted to with time. He learned to bear both the emotional and physical pain, to not let it hinder him, and became skilled in things like cooking, despite his dislike for it, money management, coding, _hacking,_ and maintained his grades in school while working part-time jobs that were of dubious legality on the internet, all while he was still a kid. An angry one, but a kid.

He was careful about it at the beginning, logging into encrypted sessions, using VPNs and incognito modes, really any mean of making his presence unknown, because he was wary of the government’s watchful eye over him. Kusanagi-san was as nice as he was sneaky; Yusaku learned most of what he knew from him, once he got over his hang-ups with letting a child dive into the criminal world like that. That his brother was another victim was just proof fate put him on the right path. Yusaku just added Jin’s delicate existence to his list of reasons why he wouldn’t let anyone get away with all this.

He started to investigate on the field shortly after he got his ninth med prescription in a span of five years from age nine to fourteen. It wasn’t easy, because no one wanted him out of their sight in fear of him going missing again or going completely off the rails. The public library proved to be inefficient for the first time in his life, as did any cyber cafes, but that’s how he learned to look deeper into things, to push his own boundaries— what he wanted wasn’t easy to find, wasn’t visible to the naked eye. Only he could connect such dots.

A suspicious headline on a newspaper only a month before the day of his kidnapping. Numerous interviews with one particular group of doctors about their future projects. Hypothesis about what could come next in human evolution from the same group of scientists. Founding for a new project getting approved and then cancelled, all other mentions of it disappearing. A memorial with only a few people in attendance in contrast to a funeral full of grieving familiars of a dead child.

It was almost ridiculously easy then, once Yusaku ventured out into the streets and left behind his discomfort with using his powers against people, of getting into the accounts and disks of government officials and striking deals with bounty hunters, to find a name: Kogami Kiyoshi, dead at 43. Divorced from a wife that died in a suspicious car accident shortly after the son was born. Almost got arrested for going against basic human rights during the early stages of testing a new medicinal drug just five years prior to his kidnapping. Allegedly fired because of moral differences with his boss.

If not the perpetrator, then certainly involved.

He could find nothing and no one that knew about the organization responsible. A questionable doctor with a shady past and a strangled relationship with his son wasn’t that much of a red flag, but he had a hunch. So, he followed it and kept looking; he may know _who_ , but he needed the _why._ Human evolution is one thing, but there must have been something that pushed those scientists to break all their rules just to achieve this: an angry teenager with shadow manipulation powers looking to make them pay and lots of prison sentences.

Yusaku almost laughed out loud when one year into his investigative vigilantism a guy trying to steal some DNA from the city mayor let it slip operations never ceased for the organization that kidnapped him. It was ridiculously easy to pull the information out of him, straddling his back and twisting his arm painfully to get him to talk in the middle of the mayor’s office, glass digging into his face; he didn’t even need to use his powers on him seriously. He barked all he knew out with such deep fear in his voice that Yusaku was actually momentarily disgusted with himself, before he remembered his anger was justified and he would never kill anyone anyways, not like this guy, who apparently had been tasked been stealing the DNA so they could _clone the mayor._ Funny plan, but he was more interested in unlocking his own backstory.

Aliens. Who would have thought? He had assumed his weirdness was a completely man-made development, but this explained much more about him, about the voice that never left, about the peculiar changes he went through physically that required him to train himself. He was experimented on and linked to an alien AI that wanted him to find their physical form. How odd but _useful_ , not to mention a bit shocking, even if it was annoying in the beginning to train his body as a way of spending all of his extra, pent up energy and signing up to martial arts lessons and personal defense, asking his current guardians to _please_ let him get some light gym equipment, like yoga mats and weights. All of it to discover he wasn’t going through a weird phase, but a _biological evolution._ Go figure; those crazy scientists were actually successful at creating a new type of human.

Since he wasn’t able to give him more information and didn’t even know the _name_ of the organization, he let the guy escape for the sake of making whoever was bossing him around know there was someone looking for them, to send a message, but he showed up dead not a week later. For fifteen-year-old Yusaku, this wasn’t a good thing— someone was dead because he got a bit too curious about things he shouldn’t be involved in, that he should have let rest and buried, but as the years passed and the events leading up to his actual debut as a hero came, he started to accept not everyone could be saved and not everyone was worthy of saving. It was a hard reality, the one he lived in, but it was the only way he could get up in the morning and get through the day. He had three goals in mind:

  1. Find out the truth.
  2. Make the one who did this pay.
  3. Figure out whether the person who saved him was alive to thank them.



He never quite liked the title of hero. It’s too restrictive— you save one cat from a tree, stop a couple of assassinations and a broken, guilt-ridden lady from releasing a computer virus into the world and suddenly you’re a role model. He wasn’t the first, of course, that title was to the ever glorious Go Onizuka, who decided crime in Den City was ridiculously high – he wasn’t wrong; back when he debuted Den City was avoided like the plague by tourists – but didn’t have the brain to hide behind a mask like him and his eventual half-replacement, a flying girl that went with around three different names, did. Watching Go eventually become obsessed with being a hero was sad but predictable; Yusaku didn’t have time to be sorry about those who only helped the little guy to appear like the best.

Playmaker. Yusaku couldn’t help but actually grin at that one.

It had a nice ring to it, even if it was a bit too similar to his given name. He came to like it thanks to Kusanagi-san’s constant reinforcement that becoming a recognized hero was somehow a good thing; Yusaku didn’t see the point at the beginning since he wasn’t looking to protect anyone but himself and maybe some very few select individuals. By the time his name becomes common knowledge among the citizens he’s seventeen and has already gotten dozens of offers to patrol the city together at night by some rookie hero that was just afraid of getting caught by the police or attacked by an actually dangerous villain. He's been doing this for a while; that he was underground before didn't make a difference.

Den City was weird like that. As far as he knew, it was one of the very little numbers of cities in the world that had actual super-powered individuals going around on spandex and jumping from tall buildings like it was nothing. Playmaker was a loner— in a reality where freaks like him showed up about once every month or so, he was the only one that stuck to his own lane, focusing more on his personal mission but sending them relevant information and helping out when he could or felt like it. Where Blue Angel became pretty much an Idol and Go Onizuka was given the keys to the city, he lurked in the shadows and came out mostly at night, following the traces of his past and taking down drug and human trafficking rings by himself. He eventually became more open to helping out, since it felt wrong not to, but his hesitation to work with anyone is still there and very real.

In short, Yusaku wasn’t interested in the benefits of Playmaker becoming a symbol, but he was left very little choice six months into his heroing when the first vestiges of the Knights of Hanoi began to crawl their way out of the darkest corners of Den City’s criminal activity, bringing chaos with them and serving as another recovered missing puzzle piece to fit his actual mission, moving on from being just a ghost organization in his mind responsible for the dark turn his life took to a very real, present danger during his day to day life.

Bioterrorists. They believed their viruses would accelerate human evolution and weren’t shy about illegally testing them on unwilling people, much like they did with him. _As if_ , Yusaku thought when he first stopped one of their smallest groups from exploding a bioweapon in the middle of downtown during the rush hour. Not only that, the Knights of Hanoi only made villain activity _worse_ , and he did not appreciate it at all. He was also kind of disappointed he couldn’t figure out the name by himself, but that just confirmed his suspicions about Kogami Kiyoshi, once he started to look deeper into them to find rumors and old files of him listed as their founder.

The investigation at some point took him to his top secret government file, which was pretty laughable: he was deemed as a high-level threat and yet all it took to take him down was a phone call to the right emergency number and a suspicious accident Yusaku could trace the origins of to his parent company— SOL Technologies, a capitalistic entity that claimed they just wanted to make new software and hardware to help humanity evolve but that was suspected to be involved in selling illegal weapons to the highest bidder. Weapons Hanoi absolutely loved to buy and _‘improve.’_

Yusaku made it part of his mission to take them all down. He didn’t want a nuclear war, thank you, but the Knights of Hanoi were his priority, now that he could put a name to what had been until then one of his biggest questions in regards to his kidnapping. Next business in order: tracking down their current leader. They are bound to know more about the alien experimentation.

Dealing with them was not easy, though. Somehow, despite Yusaku being really acclimated to Den City’s underground crime and having contacts all around, they never got into his or anyone else’s radar until they were right there trying to spread a virus. They also increased in worryingly fast numbers despite the efforts he put into tracking down their shady warehouses and experimentation labs. It was this that forced him to officially team up with Go Onizuka and Blue Angel for the first time.

It was horrible. Go was his complete opposite, but at least he got his part of the job done. Yusaku wondered how people could even stand seeing someone like him pretend to not be literally the strongest human alive just for the sake of being mildly entertaining; Go hulked over most people not only with the sheer strength and size of his muscles but also with his outgoing personality, so it was a bit embarrassing to watch him pretend any of Hanoi’s weapons could penetrate his skin or do more than momentarily confuse him. Yusaku came to somewhat respect the message he wanted people to gather from his actions, to not kick the little man down or something, but he was too busy with trying to balance his seventh semester at university with his part-time job at Kusanagi-san’s and his little hunt down of Hanoi to care about his personal morals in depth.

Not to mention Go’s outfits were a bit too much, but he really isn’t one to talk. Finding out his own could actually change his hair color was great, but he became uninspired beyond that when he officially started to act like a hero. He could admit his bodysuit was questionable – Kusanagi-san told him as much – but he wasn’t ashamed. He couldn’t be when Blue Angel went around on a knee-high dress at times; if she could stand that then he could pretend people didn’t whistle at him on the streets when he was minding his saving people business. Besides, it was made with stolen alien fabric he found on a government warehouse of confiscated goods. It probably belonged to Hanoi at some point, which only makes the steal better. Good luck peeling that off him, villains; Yusaku sometimes forgets how to take it off himself and has to go to his morning classes with it underneath a sweater and gloves despite being the middle of the summer. The super-intelligent fabric was both a blessing and a curse.

Blue Angel was another thing altogether— too stubborn and too eager to please, not that reckless but certainly lacking Go’s experience and confidence. She wasn’t ever a damsel in distress, thank goodness, but it got annoying when she was struck by that need to be both a hero and an Idol. Yusaku couldn’t really dislike any of them, since they were actually doing most of the _‘saving people, being a good role model’_ part and he was doing more of the _‘I know who we have to save them from’_ part. He was as dependent on them to not have to take care of everything by himself as they were of him giving them the necessary information to act while first knowing the full picture of the situation.

They weren’t the only ones, of course— Den City is full of aspiring heroes and just as many villains and in-betweens. Ghost Girl was probably smacked right on the center of the spectrum, half of the time a hero for hire and half of the time a bounty hunter. Soulburner though, in Yusaku’s honest opinion, is a _blessing_ ; not only can he listen to him better than any other hero around and actually be helpful instead of a nuisance, but he’s also a victim of the Hanoi experiments. They met when Takeru quite literally crashed into him during an attack to the main plaza, making them both fall down into the ground and Yusaku get an ugly bruise in his nose.

He was about to glare at him with the intensity of his _‘I haven’t had a good week but you just made it worse’_ glare when their eyes met and a feeling of recognition ran over the both of them, making them pause.

“Oh,” Soulburner had said, and Yusaku related to the simplicity of it, even as he accepted his hand to get up off the ground.

“You’re like me.” Was his only answer. It didn’t take them long to become practically official partners after that, and just as much time to meet outside the field and become actual friends. Takeru transferring universities to operate in Den City full time was perhaps a bit much, though, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

Then there were those like Blood Shepherd and Revolver— but Yusaku wasn’t going to think about them much. They are their own mystery and phenomenon apart from everyone else. Blood Shepherd is Ghost Girl’s business, and Revolver, well… he isn’t anyone’s business but his own. No one else is as deeply into his strange, far and in-between, helpful but confusing and insulting appearances as he is. It’s that odd, mutual understanding of each other they have every time they talk that keeps Yusaku from actually fully disliking him.

The legally of the actions of people like them were even more questionable than those of hero-vigilantes and perhaps even the villains. Blood Shepherd was also smacked in the middle of the hero-villain spectrum, but unlike Ghost Girl leaned more towards full-on mercenary. There was no stopping him when she had such a tight leash on that case— just like he did with Revolver’s.

Revolver. Every time Yusaku thinks about him his mind descends into a swirling mess of questions and half-baked theories. He’s somehow related to the Hanoi experiments of sixteen years ago, the one question he has answered for him since knowing each other for about five years, ever since Hanoi appeared, but he hasn’t been able to figure out how, or what he is looking for. He is, as far as Yusaku can tell, even deeper into the shadows that he was when he learned how to not draw attention to himself, in his times as an underground vigilante. He has no idea how he manages that, and every time he tries to create a personality profile drawing traits from his interactions with him and from others’ comments about him he comes up with at least four different files filled with possibilities to what Revolver’s life might be behind his weird, freaky alien mask and his husky voice.

Yusaku always draws the same conclusion: it doesn’t matter. Whoever Revolver is, he’s probably just trying to the same thing as him and get revenge on Hanoi, might even be a victim himself. And whatever connection they have—

Well, Yusaku isn’t about to catch feelings. Not this far into the game.


	2. first contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back with a chapter twice the length of the first one! Some actual doing in this chapter, some plot progression, too many "Ai is Yusaku's child" jokes. Enjoy!
> 
> Also, Celepom is responsible for this not being a mess. Thank you, you're an angel, as always.

He only reaches a breakthrough in his now five-year-long investigation into Hanoi’s motives for human-alien experimentation when he almost steps on a snake during one of their attacks. Except it wasn’t a snake, and he didn’t almost step on it; he most certainly fell on top of it after being blasted through a wall by one of Hanoi's fancy new people-murdering weapons he got to be the test subject for, and he will never forget how disgusting that felt afterwards, when the remaining bits peeled off his skin and went slithering away through a pipe.

_Well then_ , was the thought that crossed his mind as he decided to follow it, _if I die I die._ His day has been less than ideal; waking up at 9 am to find a terrorist group that's been the bane of his existence going all out was not fun. He was trying to stop them before lunch, but when something weird happens he needs to figure out the origin before it comes back to bite him in the ass so he might as well go for it and chase that thing.

He _probably_ shouldn’t leave in the middle of a Hanoi attack, but there are enough heroes and vigilantes out and about to handle them while he investigated another one of Den City’s weird occurrences. He’s been researching the origins for increasing superhuman activity since Kusanagi-san was able to get them a decent scheming space – an underground apartment that was not cheap; Yusaku’s wallet is still weeping – so they could tackle more issues at once, and a particular question has been in his mind for a while.

What is so important about Den City’s population to be the testing ground for Hanoi? Their large scale attacks were always directed at some of the city’s more populated areas, like parks, campuses, gardens, downtown— Hanoi rarely bothered to attack any other neighboring cities or towns, and when they did it was mostly for collecting resources. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting out of following this jelly thing around as chaos breaks out and Go Onizuka screams for him, asking him if he’s fine to get no answer because he’s focused, but he’s curious.

It could be related to Hanoi, after all— Yusaku doesn't like to leave loose ends.

The jelly-like bits take him into the city's sewers, which isn’t encouraging. He's had some interesting experiences down in these sewers, but that doesn’t mean they were good ones. The image of Soulburner’s panicked eyes after almost burning him while both of them were covered in flammable sewer waste will never leave his mind.

He became even more suspicious of the situation when the little voice in the back of his mind, that's been mostly dormant over the last few years, starts to increase in volume to the point in which he can barely walk, talking to him in that language he can barely understand. A headache threatens to pull him down, but he keeps going. Kusanagi-san's voice in his earpiece is inaudible and stays that way during the entire ordeal, making him feel anxious. For all he knows, he could be walking into an elaborate Hanoi trap. Sounds fun.

He isn't feeling any better by the time he reaches a dead end covered in more of that sentient jelly substance. It’s a bit too dark to really examine it from afar, but it smells suspiciously like mold, so before doing the heroic and crazy thing by approaching it, Yusaku pulls on his suit fabric so the turtleneck stretches and covers his mouth and nose, lest he catch something down here.

Yusaku hesitates before pulling out his flashlight. He doesn't really need it— his superhuman senses allowed him to see well enough to distinguish the purplish-black color of the substance and the slight shine to it, but he doesn't want to miss any details. His headache, thankfully, has been slowly dying out, the sound of the water of the sewage system filling his ears instead, but there's still nothing from Kusanagi-san but static.

Shrugging and looking around for a stick only to find none, Yusaku steps closer to the substance and pokes it with a finger.

The whole thing moves with an incredibly loud, wet sound, shivering all over and unsticking itself from the wall, falling into the ground. Yusaku now regrets leaving Go and Blue Angel on the city streets instead of sending _them_ to investigate; he'd rather be thrown through walls again than deal with _this._

Still making perturbing, non-stop noise, the thing slowly starts to increase its luminosity until it's emitting a purple light, that brightens and dims, almost like a heartbeat. he thing reduces in size until it's nothing but a blob in the ground, about the side of a baseball.

He waits in silence for a few seconds, but when nothing happens, Yusaku sighs and crouches, pointing the flashlight right at it. It's looking a bit smoother now, rubber-like and perfectly round with a few purple markings around it – it really is a baseball – but it still does nothing.

_Well_ , Yusaku thinks, reaching out to grab it, _here goes nothing._

He doesn't get a chance a touch it before it jumps, starling him backwards and making him stand up fully, ready to take full advantage of the dark and make good use of his abilities. It jumps again, and then three more times, its shape reforming until it falls into the ground for one last time and Yusaku is left staring, a bit shocked, at what resembles a little humanoid-looking… _thing_ , with black, rubber-like skin, shiny yellow eyes and purple streaks all over, just like the ball. It’s barely taller than the length of his hand, and as soon as it looks up at him with evident happiness, Yusaku feels something inside him snap into place. The voice in his brain finally silent for the first time since the Hanoi incident and allowing him to just enjoy the quiet as the thing stares at him and he stares back.

Unfortunately, it speaks.

“Playmaker-sama!” The thing screams, so Yusaku takes one calculated step back. Perhaps he was not as ready to deal with aliens as he thought. “It’s me! I’m so happy I found you!”

The thing waves its little arms around and forms a heart over its head, winking at him. Yusaku regrets many, many things right now, like being born.

The sense of familiarity he feels towards this thing though, makes him wonder if he somehow forgot about meeting it before, deciding it was very possible he had just deleted the memory from his mind if it went anything like this. He settles for his trademark deadpan, glaring at it until it makes a little _‘yeep!’_ sound and literally braces itself, sticky arms around its body. “Do I know you?”

The little thing falls dramatically to its knees. Yusaku almost lets out a mildly disgusted sound at it landing on a wet sewer spot, but it clearly didn’t care about that.

“You wound me! I’m your son!” The thing cries, and Yusaku almost turns around to leave right there. “Don’t you remember me? It’s barely been like, a decade and a half!”

A decade and a half, huh? Yusaku could probably work with that. It was kind of obvious that he had somehow stumbled upon alien life growing on Den City’s sewer system. Who knew? He wonders if Hanoi does, since they seem really negligent about their past experiments.

“Are you related to that incident?” He asks, not softening his voice or relaxing. The quiet in his mind is as refreshing as it is foreign, and it makes him uneasy. The thing nods enthusiastically. That was something at least; another piece to fit into the puzzle. “How related?”

“I was born that day! Or well, actually, I was technically born just know, but I’ve been alive since that day!” The little thing takes another step closer to him, and Yusaku feels vaguely threatened before he remembers he has a Taser with him. Good thing he grabbed it this morning. “You’re kind of my mom!”

“What do you mean by that? I can’t carry children,” Yusaku shakes his head, bringing a hand up to fumble with his earpiece. Kusanagi-san is still quiet, which can't be good. He would have probably remembered Yusaku mentioning giving birth at some point. “And you’re _obviously_ not human. How exactly are you related to the incident?”

The thing shoots him a sheepish look. “It’s a bit complicated, but you didn’t actually biologically, humanly gave birth to me— I was born out of your consciousness! That little voice in your head— me!”

Yusaku is starting to feel strangely tired of this conversation. “Are you the alien that I got my DNA spliced with, then?”

“You know about that? Nice, I don’t actually have to explain that much stuff to you now,” Yusaku opens his mouth to ask just _how much_ it knows about the incident, but he has no time before a loud _‘BOOM!’_ shakes the ground above them. Right, Hanoi was testing weapons and Go was around to take the bulk of it. That might not end well. “Hey, they’re still going at it?”

Without thinking much about it, Yusaku bends down and grabs the alleged alien around the middle, almost cringing at how sticky-cold it feels even through the fabric of his suit, but he has no time to dwell on it. He needs to get to a service exit, otherwise, Den City might just get blown up by the shared efforts of rookie heroes not caring about property damage, Go taking care of as many of them as he can at a time, and the Knights of Hanoi going mad with their fancy new toys.

So, without listening to the complaints he is receiving about harassment – _how the fuck does an alien know about any of that_ – Yusaku uses some of his bodysuit fabric to tie up his new source of information, barely having to think about it before it's done. The perks of alien technology.

It doesn't work out like he thought it would.  “Hey! I know this thing. It’s _cozy_.”

The alien wiggles around in his hand and Yusaku watches in horror as it starts to melt into his suit to the point in which it disappears inside it, not modifying the color or the pattern but making a shiver run down his spine at the sudden weird feeling he gets, like someone just ran a hand down his back. The thing lets out a joyful laugh.

“What did you do you my suit?” His voice sounds deeply disturbed; Yusaku would have to deny being fazed by this later.

“I would explain more if we had time, but basically this fabric is made to host me!” Yusaku ignores the perturbed feeling he gets at the words. Host alien life? He was definitely not as prepared as he thought he would be for this. He hopes this suit thing will not become a permanent arrangement.

“I’ll ask later,” Yusaku looks around and then quickly starts to make his way back to where he came from, silently wishing Kusanagi-san were freaking out with him in his ear. Why is he not saying anything? Is his earpiece broken? Regardless, he knew he couldn’t keep addressing alien life acclimated enough to the Earth’s culture to know what winking and arm hearts are like an _'it'_. That would probably be offensive.

“Do you have a name…?” Yusaku pauses for a second, hesitating on the question. This is weird. “…or a gender preference?”

The alien makes a humming sound, and Yusaku feels it everywhere. Fuck, this is _so_ weird. "Human gender seems unimportant but I guess to avoid complications I should go for one." It quiets down for a few merciful seconds, and then almost scares the shit out of Yusaku by talking so loudly it echoes across the sewer tunnel he's heading through. "Yours looks OK! You're a _'he'_ , right?"

Yusaku's eyebrow twitches. "Yes, I am."

“So I'm a boy! Congratulations on the bouncing baby boy," he giggles. Yusaku really regrets getting up in the morning. The alien's voice is playful with his next question: "Aren't you a happy momma?"

Yusaku sighs. Maybe he should skip town and get a new identity. Forget Den City; Domino doesn't have this kind of shit going on. “Name?”

“Human names are complicated,” he says, and Yusaku cringes at how much he drags the 'o'. He's an incredibly obnoxious alien, apparently. “But I’d like one! How about—”

“I’m calling you Ai,” Yusaku interrupts, shining his flashlight upwards once he spies the shape of an exit. Now, to open it.

“What? That’s lame!” Ai complains, but Yusaku's too busy estimating how high he has to jump and how hard he has to hit the metal for it to open. Actually, maybe his new companion could be of some assistance. “I have a right to pick my name! Where did you even got that from?”

Yusaku sighs, a long-suffering sound that would make people about to die dramatically quite jealous. “It’s a pun. Now, does your addition to my suit have any perks?”

“Eh, I guess—”

“Can you open that manhole cover for me?” Yusaku doesn’t even know how Ai is seeing anything, to be honest. He hopes he’s not somehow seeing through his eyes, since that would be intrusive. “I could jump and hit it, but I would rather not risk a broken wrist."

Instead of answering, Ai's little shape suddenly appears sitting on top of his wrist, a hand against his chin, yellow eyes narrowing in thought as he states at the entrance like he's trying to solve a complicated math equation and hesitating. When his expression clears, he looks mischievous. Yusaku has a bad feeling about this.

“Ah, I see. Well, don’t freak out, give me a second.”

Yusaku decides at that moment that he will never trust an alien if they tell him not to freak out ever again. In all honesty, he could have opened that exit by himself no problem without even breaking a sweat, but he is curious about Ai, and this is what he gets: to watch a little, seemingly inoffensive alien grow in size and become jelly for a few long seconds, reforming to the point in which he’s now staring at something at least three times his size, with a huge mouth and teeth and humid breath, hitting the heavy metal cover with a tentacle.

Ai clearly struggles with it, letting out dramatic sounds and curses as he raises another sticky-looking tentacle to hit it again until it loosens up just enough for a bit of light to fall into the sewer. With the light comes the sound of people screaming, which immediately puts him on edge, but he's inconveniently distracted by Ai's giant shape.

_At least he managed to open it,_ Yusaku thinks, feeling momentarily dizzy. Now he could just jump and grab the edge, but he has too many questions about this new… _development_ to just ignore what happened. Ai just goes back to his previous form like it’s no big deal, giving him a thumbs up and somehow managing to convey the illusion of a grin, despite having no mouth.

“Did you just turn into a monster?”

Ai’s apparent grin turns into a frown. “Rude! That’s just one of my forms. I can turn into kitties, too!”

Kitties. Uh. Well, at least he now knows he won’t have trouble explaining Ai to Kusanagi-san and their landlord. He will not be happy to have yet another roommate. He wonders if Ai will make an ugly cat. “What do you eat? If you say humans, I’m going to Taser you.”

“Well, I don’t really need to eat to be honest, since you being alive equals me surviving, but I sure enjoy it!”

Ah, bold of him to assume a life form different from humans needs to eat. Shrugging, Yusaku crouches down and squints at that bit of light, bracing himself to jump. When he does, he manages to grab onto the edge of the concrete above and climb up without issue, pushing the manhole away as he goes, his movements a bit more frantic than usual because there shouldn't be any villains on this street—

Chaos surrounds him.

No, really, things are burning in the street and there are people screaming and running in the opposite direction of the biggest fire. A few people recognize him and whoop in apparent happiness at their chances of dying reducing, but Yusaku is too busy staring at the massive, terrifying figure of a person that was clearly experimented on wearing a Knights of Hanoi uniform, towering over at least twice Go’s height. He wore one of their infamous mind control masks, but it did little to hide the scars all over his face and the milky white of his eyes, and the suit was clearly too tight on them, their muscles threatening to tear it at any sudden movement. Even Go would have issues taking this person on, so Yusaku just sighs in misplaced annoyance; he always runs into some of the weirdest shit by himself. Hanoi’s man-made mutants aren’t unusual, but they sure are something special.

To his relief, the mutant doesn't seem to have a very good eyesight and is not attacking civilians, but he's also not alone— Knights of Hanoi stand off to the side, watching the giant with no small amount of glee in their posture and the curl of their mouths. One of them is clearly the gang leader; they're holding the mind control remote in one hand, loosely, like they think nothing could ever happen to it.

Typical of Hanoi to be this laid back in a city filled with heroes. The giant mutant was probably not even one of their own; they loved to kidnap people and test their drugs and viruses on them. It's absolutely disgusting, and it makes Yusaku furious.

“Prepare yourself,” Yusaku warns Ai, stretching his arms over his head and looking around for any dark spots. This is why he hates working during the day. “We’re going for the minions, and then the big guy.”

“WHAT!?” Ai screams, so Yusaku shushes him despite it not making a difference because of the ambiance of the panicked crowd around them. The Knights haven't even spotted him yet. Yusaku moves toward the sidewalk to step on the shadow of a building, but there’s way too much light around. He’s at a disadvantage, but it’s either this or let this poor mindless person wreck the whole city. “We’re going to die! I don’t like you anymore!”

“Get used to it,” Yusaku says, and then falls through the shadow, sudden gravity pulling at him until he’s landing cleanly, quietly, on another one right next to a distracted Hanoi lackey standing behind the others. He takes too long to notice him; Yusaku has him unconscious on the ground before the others even register what’s happening and get out their shiny new guns, the same ones that blasted Yusaku through a wall not thirty minutes ago. He glares at them even as he talks to Ai. “You clearly have teeth, so don’t be afraid to bite. This suit is half of my support equipment, so don’t you dare mess with it.”

"Did he say something about biting?" One of the Knights says, perplexed, so Yusaku jumps him first, too fast for him to avoid getting a kick in the chin and his gun slapped away from his hand. The other Knights take a step back because they have backwards instincts, but raise up their guns properly in warning as Yusaku holds the Knight he grabbed in a choke hold, staring them down with his signature frown. He’s shorter than all of them, but it doesn’t make a difference.

“Playmaker-sama, you’re cruel,” Ai whines, but Yusaku ignores him. The Knights start saying something about him talking to himself, but Ai effectively talks over them. “But you’re also so cool! Your control over shadows is so neat! I get why humans go crazy for you now!”

_Oh no_ , Yusaku thinks, glancing around at his confused, furious enemies, _Ai is a fan._ Yusaku hates fans. It’s the last thing he should be concerned about though. There are three Knights standing before him telling him to let their fellow criminal down, but Yusaku is obviously not going to do that. He’s barely using any of his strength as it is; this guy will pass out at most if he doesn’t knock him out first.

"What did you do to him?" He asks, gesturing with his head at the hulking beast that's currently hitting a truck repeatedly. Despite having super strength, the mutant doesn’t seem to have the invulnerability Go does, so he leaves drops of blood behind with every punch. It makes his stomach lurch. “That virus is new."

The Knight he saw with the mind control remote grins. "You like it? We made that one especially for your friend, Onizuka— shame he's not around to see it."

Yusaku grinds his teeth so hard the Knight in his hold shivers. Good. "Is there a cure?"

“Maybe, I don’t really care,” the leader shrugs. Yusaku tightens his grip on the guy he’s holding until he finally runs out of air and passes out, letting him fall to the ground in a heap. The mocking smile the Knight he’s talking to wears makes his blood boil. "What? Does that make you _mad?_ "

“Ai,” Yusaku calls, knowing he's listening. The Knights laugh at him like he's crazy; it's an eerily familiar feeling, but only serves to cement his choice. There will be no more Hanoi victims today. "Help me out, please."

"As you wish, Playmaker-sama!"

The moment Ai starts leaking out of his suit Yusaku jumps at the Knight standing slightly to his left, taking advantage of the distraction of a monster with tentacles appearing seemingly out of nowhere. He manages to keep him at bay for a few seconds by raising his gun, but he's too distracted by what's going on behind Yusaku to aim properly; he gets to land a good punch that knocks a few of his teeth out and he falls to the ground with a loud _'crunch'_ , probably breaking something else. Instead of chatting, Yusaku just presses his foot against his throat hard and waits for him to pass out while making sure to dismantle the gun, keeping an ear on what’s happening behind him.

When he turns around he expects Ai to still be fighting one of the other two Knights, but instead, he’s greeted by the sight of him wrapping them up tightly in his tentacles, extending them out to him like an offering. It’s quite the odd sight, and both Knights cringe at every slide of Ai against them. He’s so glad Ai likes him now.

"These are lame," he says, the pair of sharp yellow eyes staring at him with vaguely unsettling joy. Yusaku’s still processing he's an actual living thing and not a movie special effect. "Here, I don't even want to tongue them."

"Tongue us?" One of the Knights whispers, soundly deeply disturbed. Yusaku ignores him and goes right for the leader, running his hands over his body until he finds the remote— oh. The crushed remote.

Crap.

He tries not to get angry or disappointed about this, but it's hopeless. The mind control remote was important and his carelessness just resulted in it being destroyed. He should have attacked the leader first, but thinking about Hanoi forcing people into becoming lab rats messes with his brain. To get some of his anger out Yusaku punches the one Knight left conscious right on the nose, watching him slump over with satisfaction. Shit, he fucked up big time.

"We'll have to tear that mask off him," he says to Ai, sounding perhaps more dejected that he was aiming for. Ai makes a vaguely scandalized sound at him. "I should have told you to watch for the remote. It got smashed."

He holds it up for Ai to see, and he somehow pouts. "I'm sorry, Playmaker-sama—"

"It's my mistake," Yusaku turns around to see what the mutant is up to— ah, that fire hydrant is going to be a bitch to replace. He must be in pain, too; those weren’t easy to tear off the ground. At least some of the fires were being doused. "Come on, the sooner we knock him out the sooner we can get the police force to take him to a hospital."

Ai jumps on his back and then melts into the suit again, giving Yusaku goosebumps— this was not going to be weird. There seem to be no civilians around anymore, which means he can go all out, but this field is still inadequate for him; this street is made up of apartment buildings on one side and a playground on another, and the sun was high in the sky, not many clouds around. Too much light and very little shadow. He needs back up, but that probably wouldn’t be here for a while, considering his communications with Kusanagi-san seemed to have been cut off. The other heroes probably don’t know about the attack spreading to this side of the city; according to his mental math and based off how many turns he took to follow Ai, he was probably about six blocks away from the main event. Fuck.

“Ai,” Yusaku moves cautiously towards the sidewalk, where the shadows of the buildings don't fail him, trying not to bring attention to himself. It seems that this mutant attacks only on command, not paying attention to moving targets unless he’s told to, but he has no idea if that will change now that there’s no mind control remote around. He needs a plan to get around that, preferably without wrecking the place any further. "I’m going to move so I can land on top of the big guy."

“What!? That thing could kill us!” Yusaku looks down to see Ai cowering on his wrist, hiding his face behind his hands. It’s just as odd as everything that has happened today. “Please, Playmaker-sama, I don't want to die just after an hour of being born!”

“The key word is _‘could’_. We’re going to avoid that today,” Yusaku crouches down onto the ground, pressing his hands against it and hiding completely under the shadows, calculating from exactly what height he has to drop himself from. The hardest part is going to be creating the shadow he needs on top of him to be able to actually move, since he’s in the sunniest part of the street - just his luck - but he has _just_ enough to work with. Ai makes a distressed sound. “Alright, brace yourself. I’m going to trust you to hold him down as much as you can so I can tear it off. I’ll try to be quick.”

And with that, Yusaku lets the shadows surround him, his mind and powers straining a bit to locate exactly where he’s going. The ground disappears from under his feet and the darkness takes over his vision for a second before he’s falling, faster than he expected, and landing a bit clumsily on the mutant’s shoulders, barely keeping himself from dropping right to the ground by wrapping his legs around their neck and holding onto their clothes. Ai screams as he dangles backwards from his shoulders, gravity threatening to make him fall head first into the ground, but Yusaku keeps his cool and holds on tighter with his legs before lifting his upper body, his chest colliding with the back of the giant's head and making him grunt. He’ll probably bruise there.

The mutant screams. Ai, a bit panicked, is quick to do as he was told and get partly off him to hold the giant in place, tentacles locking his arms and body in a tight hold that looks barely strong enough to keep him still for more than a few seconds. Despite this, the giant barely notices the tentacles and Yusaku clinging to him like a koala trying to tear off the Hanoi mask by bringing his hands to his face, instead just attempting to move forwards and struggling with the force of Ai’s grip, shaking his whole body around. Yusaku stumbles with the force of it, almost falling off again, but the frenzy of it allows him to sink his nails into his face right under the mask and pull with all his strength, the offensive accessory tearing itself off his face with a horrible sound of skin ripping and a terrible scream of pain that shakes Yusaku to his core.

This is why he hates fucking up Hanoi's mind control remotes. The victims always end up scarred, but most of them are thankful for it as long as they get to be free. But not all get better afterwards, or recover their sanity for that matter. He hopes it’s not too much to ask that this won’t be the case for this big guy.

The giant stills, all the fight draining out of him, and Yusaku sighs, exhaustion slumping his shoulders despite his attempts to stay alert. Ai slowly untangles himself from the giant, going back to looking like a sticky kid toy on his wrist are glancing around nervously as Yusaku smashes the mask into the ground. "Is it over now?"

"Apparently—" Yusaku starts, only to get interrupted by one of his legs being grabbed in a death grip that cuts off his words, panic immediately taking over as he realizes what’s about to happen. Ai screaming a warning that’s unfortunately too late.

He’s suddenly being tossed like a ragdoll across the street, landing painfully against the side of a car and probably breaking something, judging with the _‘crunch!’_ he hears. The air is pulled from his lungs and he can’t help but gasp and wheeze, barely keeping a scream down from the pain, closing his eyes tightly. He hates Hanoi _so fucking much_ right now. Ai tries to get his attention, sounding alarmed, but he isn’t listening— in front of him, the giant goes mad.

Before, his movements were reckless but had a clear objective in mind. Now, because Yusaku did a stupid thing, it was just wrecking everything in sight. Fuck. Well. He probably wouldn't die from this, but he didn't fancy being used as a toy by a giant that was experimented on by whatever crazy scientists Hanoi was supporting this month. Getting up feels impossible, and his attempt is another mistake Apparently, the mutant was very sensitive to movement, because he turns towards him like a hound would at the scent of meat. Yusaku has a second of blind panic before the guy runs towards him and he barely has enough time to weakly throw himself to the side before he collides with the car, right where he was standing just a moment ago, shaking his head like he barely felt a thing.

“I don't think that worked,” Ai points out, very unhelpfully. Yusaku manages to stand up and runs backwards, stepping over an unconscious Knight of Hanoi. He doesn't feel one bit of remorse for the lackey, since he's far more worried about playing tag with a killing machine.

Yusaku decides that answering Ai’s statement is not worth it, never mind he can barely breathe well enough to talk, instead moving out of the sight of the mutant and crouching behind a nearby car that’s certainly not safe enough, his hand hovering over the pain in his ribs as he coughs up some blood onto the concrete. He brings his other hand up to tap his earpiece and sighs when he finds it in pieces. It must have taken some damage when he was thrown through that building earlier in the day, but now it was completely shattered. Shit.

“What are we going to do now?” Ai whispers, looking up at him with nervous eyes. Peeking his head around the corner of the car and ignoring the pain as much as he can, Yusaku sees the giant picking up one of the Knights Ai took out and shaking them, throwing them away when he receives no feedback. Ouch.

It seems that he's behaving a bit like a wild animal, looking around with narrowed eyes and a slumped over back, but Yusaku can see the trauma induced fury behind his eyes, proven by how he suddenly turns and screams at a trash can,  kicking it over and smashing it with his fists. Whatever Hanoi did to him was not pretty; there’s an underlying note of pain to his screams, and it made Yusaku slightly hesitant to actually try to take out this guy, not to mention he can barely move. He’s healing, but it’s too slow, just enough to keep him alive— and yet, he can’t let him just go wild.

If he wants to live to see the next day through and pry every nugget of knowledge out of Ai, he has to get out of this situation. There’s not that much he can do without moving the fight elsewhere, but he’s not looking to make things worse or make chaos theory run its greedy fingers through the situation. Neutralizing this massive beast will not be easy to accomplish by himself, and the only way to do that is probably by finding a weak spot. The mind control mask proved futile and Yusaku doesn’t have Go’s strength to handle it hand to hand, and the light makes it hard for him to move around—

Yusaku tries to stand up to move somewhere a bit more covered, trips on a soda can, creating a loud noise that echoes across the street, and the giant immediately turns towards him and _charges._

He knows he has no time to get out of the way. He can barely walk and Ai is too slow and too panicked to pull him out of harm’s way without him asking for it, which is something he also has no time to do. He’s almost thinking faster than things are happening, adrenaline pumping him up and yet he’s not able to use it because of his wounds. He will not die from this, but he’ll certainly land in a hospital by the end of the day. Shit. Ok. He still needs to at least try to move, so he drags himself away with his arms as the mutant approaches him, gearing up to shorten the distance by jumping. He will land right on top of his legs or his feet, and it will be painful, but as long as he doesn’t get his hands on Ai or hit any vital organs it’ll be alright—

Yusaku is so focused on imminent death he doesn’t notice someone else running towards him from behind until he’s being grabbed by the back of his suit and pulled away, strong arms wrapping around him easily and his vision going a bit fuzzy, ears ringing at what he thinks is the sound of a gun going off and his hurried breakfast from this morning threatens to make a come back. There’s wind whipping against his ears and the heat of whoever just saved him’s body against him. He thinks he passes out for a moment, but hears the mutant screaming and more gunshots ring out until he has a vague idea of what’s going on when his brain stops melting for long enough for him to think properly.

Opening his eyes confirms his suspicions.

The sight of Revolver’s back covered by his usual black trenchcoat, muscles pulling at the fabric and redlining blinging out every edge, is as relievingly familiar as it is annoying. He looks a bit like a demon right out of hell, with his hood pulled up and his posture as confident as it is tense; the movement of his hands and arms as he aims and shoots is hypnotizing, and Yusaku isn’t sure how to feel about that. On one hand, he’s really glad he isn’t dead. On the other, he doesn’t want to deal with him right now. Especially considering he has a sniper rifle over his shoulder. Like he needed something like that to get the job done.

He’s laying on a pool of his own misery, at least figuratively; he’s sideways on the concrete more than ten feet away from the car he got thrown against and right next to the playground swing set. There are weird spots dancing in his vision he has to blink out and for a few alarming seconds, he can’t feel his toes. Revolver stands over him almost protectively; it’s a sight he’s way too used to. It isn’t any easier to swallow right now, despite how grateful he is, that Revolver is this synched with him being in danger to appear at the right time.

A bullet hits the mutant, making him scream in fury and pain even as his steps slow down, so Yusaku decides five seconds of rest are enough for him. He sits up, the world swimming for a second, but Revolver turns his head around the second he does, still aiming at the mutant, perfectly attuned to him in a way that should be worrying but only makes Yusaku feel funny, and not in an _‘I almost died way’._ Not good.

“Playmaker,” Revolver says, his mouth forming a grin as the creepy, yellow eyes of his mask stare at him unfeelingly, like they always have. The sniper rifle on his shoulder looks very casual on him, somehow; it compliments his coat swaying with the breeze and the tightness of his pants. Behind him, the mutant falls to the ground with a large _‘thump’_ that rattles Yusaku to the bone. At least that’s dealt with. “Are we even yet? I believe this is the third time in a row I’ve swooped in to save your skin.”

His head is pounding, his ribs hurt, his back is probably covered in bruises, he most certainly broke something and the sight of Revolver looking so smug and so fucking good with a sniper rifle is infuriating, and doesn’t help his case at all. He gets up with trembling legs, and Revolver steps over to help him fast, dropping the rifle on the ground, hands holding him tightly by the forearms and keeping him straight. Fuck, he’s in _pain_ , and it makes him unconsciously lean into the touch.

“Did you use blanks?” Are the first words out of his mouth, and Revolver’s smirk does not falter, even though Yusau’s voice comes out a bit raw. He can practically see the _‘of course I did you silly hero’_ expression through the mask, never mind he’s never seen his actual face. He just has that air about him. Moving on to another question, then: “Is there a cure?”

“I’m working on it,” Revolver shrugs, and Yusaku almost falls to the ground again with how quickly he slumps over in relief. Probably would have if not for the hands holding him up. Next time he isn’t jumping on giant’s backs, no sir. “You should probably get some rest, I’ll handle him—”

What he does next is questionable, but Yusaku is pretty sure he has a concussion, so he might as well just roll with it. Going on his tiptoes, he drops a chaste kiss on Revolver’s mouth, swaying a bit on his feet with the sudden change in height, but he’s too weak for anything else. Revolver, the closet gentleman that he is, just keeps him upwards and shakes his head, his voice amused.

“I don’t think I’m comfortable leaving you alone—”

Something goes wrong. Yusaku feels the sudden shift in the air, in how Revolver grows tense and his grip on him becomes borderline painful. It makes him raise his head to glance at the mutant over his shoulder, but he’s still unconscious on the ground, and when he turns around there’s nothing to look at but the remnants of the Hanoi attack. Thinking that Revolver is seeing something he can’t, Yusaku looks up at him to find his mouth curling into a displeased, stiff line, like he’s holding back some crude, bitter words.

It makes him want to take a cautious step back, because Revolver is not usually like this unless they’re dealing with Hanoi lackeys or having a heated argument about subjects they usually don’t touch, but to his surprise the second he even tries to get away Revolver’s grip tightens, nails digging into his skin through the gloves and the fabric of his bodysuit, bringing him even closer than he was before.

“Playmaker,” Revolver starts, his voice a poem of contained fury. His usually smug, playful self is gone, replaced with this sudden, cold burning anger. Yusaku is terribly confused and worried, because this isn’t like him at all. Just _what_ in the hell— “I want you to be honest with me. Where did you get that _thing?”_

Revolver says the word _‘thing’_ with so much venom in his voice Yusaku nearly flinches, and for a second he’s confused about what he means, but then he remembers.

Ai. The alien he found about an hour ago on a sewer. That claimed he was born the day of the incident. The same incident Revolver knows a lot of information about, but refuses to share.

Yusaku glances down at Ai looking up at them in confusion, pointing at himself like he can’t believe he’s being called a thing, and Yusaku steels himself for what’s coming. The one problem he always has with Revolver, the one thing keeping him from ever crossing several lines: their past. Their connection probably runs deeper than blood, and yet they can never find a middle ground when it comes to the subject of the incident. Those discussions normally end on someone getting punched or Yusaku walking out on him and ignoring him for a month straight until Revolver is forced to crawl back from whatever hole he hides himself in and apologize for being an uncooperative ass, just like he did two weeks ago.

Yusaku would say he doesn’t know why he always accepts his apologies, but that would be a lie. He believes in whatever cause Revolver is pursuing because it’s similar enough to his own: to take down Hanoi for good, get rid of their bioweapons and viruses and shut down their illegal labs. Stop the disappearances and kidnappings. Bring the number of victims down to zero forever. He wants to help Revolver because there’s much more to him than what meets the eye; he’s known him for five years now— if there was only an empty shell, Yusaku wouldn’t ever look at him twice.

He also thinks there’s the possibility for something more there, but it’s a subject he avoids. What’s important is that Revolver never lets him help, and has put up more walls than the City Hall has rebuilt after a villain attack, all with the prerogative of dealing with it all by himself, like the petty, stubborn dumbass he is.

Yusaku is also a petty, stubborn dumbass though, which is why he clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes at him in a suspicious glare.

He’s not bending to Revolver’s _judiciousness_ , and he very well knows it— despite not being able to see it, he knows his expression under that mask must match his own poisonous look. He wouldn’t expect anything less from the man that has so effectively broken every rule in his book about how to interact with other people on the job.

This was bound to be a fun conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yusaku: [finds an alien] sick


	3. trepidation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good luck y'all... it's been a while XD  
> i hope you enjoy and thanks to Celepom for putting up with my babbles. too many wips.

The silence that grows between them is not awkward. They are far too used to being quiet in each other’s space in a way that’s both comfortable and fulfilling, easier than exchanging words at times, for it to be completely unpleasant or unfamiliar, but this time the tension between them is so thick and full of suspicion that Yusaku feels nothing but ready to tail it out of there. He doesn’t like it when Revolver talks down to him like that, like he has the higher ground and Yusaku is just a little fool running around in spandex-like fabric almost getting killed in a daily basis.

It’s not like is his choice to lack answers and knowledge. If Revolver didn’t refuse to give him some straightforward information instead of little hints and riddles for him to look into and solve, Yusaku would have probably already gotten the answer to most if not all of his questions, the ones he’s had for years, the ones that are the reason why he’s even standing right in front of him right now. Whatever Revolver thinks he’s doing by keeping things from him will never work out in his favor; this little staring competition they’re having right now pretty much proves that.

Yusaku will not yield and he _knows_ that, far too aware that Yusaku will always win a silent staring contest, which is why he’s the one that sighs, clenches his jaw, and muses over his words before speaking. He does not let go of him, which is smart; Yusaku would have punched him the second he did.

“Playmaker,” Revolver starts, trying to keep his voice even by taking a deep calming breath, but there’s a bit of restlessness to his tone Yusaku isn’t very familiar with but serves to keep him on edge, his jaw clenching. His headache is slowly receding, allowing him to think more clearly, and he decides he doesn’t like what he’s seeing. He isn’t going to prioritize Revolver’s secrets over what he’s been looking for during the last five years, though. He has not done so in the past, so he was not going to start now. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with right now. You shouldn’t have found it—”

“But I did,” Yusaku interrupts, his tone harsh and cutting beyond what he expected, but it’s the only way Revolver will get off his back, if at least for a second. The clicking of his teeth together as a result is satisfactory, even though he dislikes the fact that they’re even acting like this. It could never be simple for once. “He was in the sewers, and I found him. Now he’s going to give me the answers you have _refused_ to tell me ever since we met—”

 _“He?_ It’s an _alien_ , Playmaker, and a dangerous one at that, you shouldn’t get attached—”

The sudden alarm and insistence coming from Revolver is surprising and worrying; Yusaku is no fool, he’s well aware that aliens are mostly unexplored territory for him and he shouldn’t trust Ai, since it could land him into issues he would have no idea how to deal with, issues that could lead to his death if he’s reckless enough. But he also has a gut feeling about this, like he’s suddenly reached a turning point in his investigation. If Ai knows _anything_ at all that he already doesn’t – and that’s _obviously_ the case – he can’t let him go. He’ll keep Ai, as a hostage or as an ally. Only time and questioning would tell which he’ll turn out to be, and he knows it’s better to hope for him to be useful than to trust in Revolver’s judgment when it comes to Hanoi, so he will not be handing over his one window of opportunity just like that.

Before he can open his mouth to tell him off though, Ai is stretching his torso so he can be eye-level with them, flapping his arms around to get them to look at him instead of at each other. Revolver glares, somehow managing to convey the look through the mask, and Yusaku pulls on his arms to test the give and try to take a step back, to no avail. Revolver was rock solid, the amount of controlled, tightly restrained strength under his skin making itself relevant; Yusaku knows without question that shit is going to go down if he wants to get out of this one. He would never expect anything less.

“First off, _mister_ ,” Ai says, puffing out his chest. Revolver growls at him and he immediately deflates, all his confidence drained out of him. But to his credit, he keeps going, frowning up at Revolver with a hint of confusion and annoyance. “I may be an alien but I do have a right to a name since my language is too complicated for human tongues and I thought having my mom’s gender would be nice—”

“Your _mom?”_ Revolver repeats, completely baffled, and turns towards Yusaku like he wants an explanation. He just shrugs and shakes his head, silently thinking about how to get out of his iron grip. Ai continues without a hiccup.

“—so I would appreciate it if you respected that and kindly backed off. I know we’re _sort of_ a thing too but Playmaker-sama here got to me first and—”

Yusaku takes his chance to, perhaps a bit recklessly, grab tightly onto Revolver’s sleeves and bring his right foot up to wrap it around his knee, pushing with the sole until he loses his balance and starts tipping backward. Revolver isn’t expecting it and Yusaku only succeeds thanks to Ai serving as a wonderful, bizarre distraction; he loosened up his grip in his attempt to remain upright, so he struggles to tighten it back up as Yusaku attempts to step away from him, pulling at his arms to get them free. He fails at breaking away from him cleanly, a grunt escaping his lips, and instead falls to the ground, free from his grasp and hitting his shoulder against a random piece of leftover rubble from the battle that somehow made its way over to the playground, but he barely feels the pain over the rush of adrenaline.

Dizziness coming back full force and keeping him from standing up immediately, Yusaku crawls away from Revolver and kneels, his previous wound making themselves known by throbbing at the hassle of their tug war. It gives Revolver just enough time to gather his bearings, but he manages to stand up just in time for him to approach him, his shoulders so tense that Yusaku knows he’s angry, but there’s no fear inside him— he’s faced worse, in his own humble opinion.

As soon as Revolver is within arm’s reach, Yusaku punches him on the jaw. It barely does anything to him, because Revolver is an immovable object when he wants to be, but it does serve to stunt him slightly, giving him enough time to run pass him towards the shadows of the apartment building. He’s not even completely out of the playground before he’s being tackled to the ground by him though, and being saved from getting a mouthful of dirt by Revolver kneeling instead of pushing him down against the ground, arms wrapped firmly around him, his chest pressed against his back and their hips not having an inch of breathing space. Yusaku wheezes in pain and tries to break out, but it’s as hopeless as it was when they were still standing.

“Is this how humans mate—” Ai begins, only to be aggressively shushed by both of them. It would be almost nice to be this close to Revolver if Yusaku weren’t struggling to get out of the hold, but Revolver’s arms are wrapped tight against his bruised ribs and the pain has him coughing out all the air in his lungs, drops of blood escaping his lips and causing him to sink his nails into his arms and _pull_ in an attempt to reduce the pain. It doesn’t work.

“Am I hurting you?” Revolver asks against his ear, warm breath caressing his skin, and a shiver runs down his spine. This is really _not_ the time. “Playmaker—”

“Let me _go,_ ” Yusaku chokes out, and then jams an elbow into Revolver’s stomach with all his strength. He was clearly not prepared for it, too caught up in his worry, because his grip loosens and Yusaku is able to crawl again, this time further away before he kneels and stares over his shoulder at Revolver walking towards him again. His ribs throb, so he takes some deep breaths to calm down, but it’s extremely painful and only results on him coughing up more blood. He slightly ashamed of how weak he’s being right now; usually he’s able to go toe to toe with Revolver without much issue other than the fact that he’s a hard nut to crack, but apparently being tossed against a car did have its consequences.

Still, he stands up and faces him, ignoring the fact that he looks like he’s holding back questions, like he’s actually regretful about aggravating his wounds and hurting him further. Yusaku spits blood at his feet, glaring at how he shakes his head almost like he’s dealing with a particularly stubborn kid. Yusaku is, in fact, not sorry about hurting _him_. “I’m not giving you Ai.”

Revolver seems confused for a few seconds, going as far as to he stops walking, his mouth twitching as he realizes who he’s referring to. “Is that a pun? You named an alien after a _pun?”_

 _“Hey, it has a nice ring to it!”_ Ai shrieks, but Yusaku’s own answer is to turn around and run, jumping over a slide and almost tripping, failing the landing but not stopping for even a second, ignoring his stumbling feet. Moments like this he’s glad he’s faster than Revolver and not stronger; he would have already caught him otherwise, since the pain in his limbs and ribs keeps him from giving his one-hundred percent. Damn, the leg that mutant grabbed was _not_ in as good of a condition as he believed.

Still, if Revolver is anything he’s skilled, just as much as Yusaku is at that if not more, which is why he turns around mid-step, takes his resulting slight hesitation as a chance, and grabs the front of his shirt and coat along with wrist, spinning around on his heel as he does, to throw him over his shoulder.

Once he’s on the ground, Yusaku doesn’t hesitate to sit on top of him, his knee digging into the center of his back with as much strength as he has and one of his hands grabbing his left arm to twist it as far as it would go without dislocating, his other hand coming up to hold his head down against the ground. He receives a grunt for his trouble, as well as a deep breathless chuckle that manages to make him angry, because there’s nothing amusing about this, so he presses in harder in reiteration. Revolver spits out some dirt.

“I could get out of this one if I wanted to,” he says, wheezing a bit. Yusaku feels slightly dizzy again, from all the running and squirming and flipping he’s done in the last few minutes, but his grip does not relent. Revolver probably could free himself easily, but he wouldn’t, not yet; Yusaku was confident on that at least. “Playmaker, we can reason with each other without having to—”

“I don’t trust you with this,” Yusaku interrupts, and his honesty effectively makes him shut his mouth. Trust— they never really talk about it in regards to each other. Perhaps it was time to change that. “I would trust you with many things, Revolver, and I have since we met, but not this time, not with Ai.”

“You never listen to me when I tell you you’re better off not getting involved,” is his answer, and Yusaku can practically taste the bitterness of regret in his voice, making him swallow. “I could make it easier for you, take it off your hands—”

Alarm burst inside his chest, the uncanny sixth sense he has for when Revolver is making proposals like this making an appearance. “What do you want him for? What do you _know?”_

“You know I can’t give away that information just because you’re asking,” At that, Yusaku twists his arm even further. Revolver barely sighs. “It’s for your own good—”

“Bullshit,” Yusaku snarls, and it sounds aggressive to his own ears, his temper getting the best of him. It’s always like this when Revolver acts like an uncooperative asshole; Yusaku forgets about keeping any semblance of calm and just demands the answers he’s craving, because it frustrates him to no end. Five years— it’s been _five years_ of dancing around the subject, and Yusaku is tired of playing the waiting game. “I don’t care about my own good, I care about getting answers and taking the people behind the Hanoi Project to justice. If you aren’t willing to help, then _get out of my way_. I’m not letting you have the last word on this, not again, not after last month.”

Revolver stays quiet. For a second, Yusaku thinks he’s about to be attacked and wrestled into the ground as a result of his mention of the argument they had not that long ago, that ended in shouting and harsh words, so he tightens his grip in preparation. To his surprise though, Revolver just sighs again and shakes his head as much as he can with it buried into the ground. Ai peeks out from his shoulder and stares.

“I don’t want to fight you on this, Playmaker,” he starts his tone carefully measured and kind, velvety soft almost, and Yusaku scoffs. Fucking typical. “I will not allow _you_ to become another one of my targets. If you just gave me the Ignis—”

Noticing his slip up, Revolver clicks his mouth shut, but it’s too late. Yusaku leans forwards, knee digging in deeper, and he ignores the pain it brings him to move his middle even if it’s just an inch, the flare of a warning going through his leg that he’s pushing himself a bit too much. “What’s an Ignis?”

“Speak up, it’s nothing I don’t know anyways!” Ai insists, finger gunning at him, but Revolver only clenches his jaw. Yusaku knows he’s getting nothing more out him right now because he’s better at keeping secrets than anything else Yusaku’s seen him do over the years, but he now has to decide what to do with him. He can’t just let him go— Revolver knows Playmaker isn’t going to stop looking into this just because he said so, and as much as he can tell that he means it when he says he doesn’t want to be his enemy, Yusaku knows better than to get carried away by everything that’s between them. If Revolver doesn’t want him to work against him, he should have put down those walls he has around him years ago and let him in.

He didn’t want to like him when they met— when he first showed up, Revolver was a right fucking asshole, getting his nose into his business and saying just the right things to make him boil in anger. He’s still like that, only somehow worse because he has more ways to rile him up and drive him crazy he was not expecting, but something about him when it comes to Playmaker softens, even if it’s just a little bit.

He wishes it wasn’t mutual.

“You know me, Revolver,” Yusaku says, and tries to keep his words as simple and honest as he can. Ai is almost inappropriately intrigued with this conversation, if the wiggling of what Yusaku thinks is the space his eyebrows would be at is any indication. “I can’t stand to the side with crossed arms while you keep important things I deserve to know from me. You’ve known this since day one. If we have to be enemies so I can fulfill my mission, then so be it.”

A few seconds of silence pass. When Revolver answers, he sounds both tired and disappointed. Yusaku can understand why. “So be it, then. I’ll leave you alone for today. It wouldn’t be fair to attack you when you can _barely_ walk.”

Yusaku scoffs again, at the emphasis he makes about his less than ideal condition, slightly insulted by the assumption he wouldn’t be able to defend himself, but decides to trust his words. He lets go of his arms and rearranges himself so he’s straddling him instead of digging his knee into him, too tired to move away, but Revolver takes it one step further by rolling underneath him so they’re facing each other, trying his hardest to not disturb his position. He ends up sitting on his lap while Revolver sighs in relief at being able to stretch out his arms, a hand coming up to wipe away a spot of dirt in his face as he sits up. The mask is scratched, and it makes him feel a twisted sort of pride that it is.

“You got me good,” he says, and Yusaku leans away from him, letting exhaustion wash over him. His shoulders drop and he grunts at the pain blossoming from his ribs, his leg, his back— he feels like a huge bruise right now, but Revolver’s comment makes him snort. He shouldn’t allow himself to be this cozy with him, really— it will make nothing but complicate things, but he’s weak to the comfort of a familiar presence, at being able to relax without having to watch his back.

“I would have actually made some damage if I wasn’t half dead when you got here,” Yusaku brings a hand to his lips, feels the wetness of blood like there’s no fabric in between it and his fingertips and swallows, running his tongue over his mouth to try and clean himself. Revolver watches in silence. “I’m disappointed on myself, but you’re hard to take down. Always have been.”

“You’re not one to pull punches, when it comes to me. I may have felt something,” Revolver sounds carefully amused, like he doesn’t want to antagonize Yusaku any further, and it makes him roll his eyes when he brings a hand up to tap his jaw, right where Yusaku hit him. “Really, I may even have a bruise later—”

“I don’t understand,” Ai interrupts, making Yusaku straighten up his back at suddenly remembering he has things to do and an alien inhabiting his outfit. Ugh. He couldn’t catch a break. “You two were just fighting and now you’re talking like you’re best buds! What are you!?”

Yusaku frowns. “It’s complicated, and none of your business.”

“Ah, c’mon I have a right to know—”

“You _really_ don’t,” Revolver brings a hand up and points at Ai, finger dangerously close to touching the top of his head. Ai cowers away, setting his hands in Yusaku’s face like he’s trying to hug him. It’s kind of nice if he ignores the stickiness. “I suggest you keep your guard up, Ignis. You may have some knowledge, but you’ve been in a cocoon for more than ten years. I know more than you do.”

“So am I not allowed to point out _that thing—?”_

Revolver makes a warming sound and Ai quietens down immediately. He shakes his head at the exchange, confused and curious about what the hell they’re both keeping from him, and decides it’s time to make his way back home and look for Soulburner, maybe take a look at Go and Blue Angel’s status. He moves to stand up, but Revolver grabs his wrist and pulls him back in, no words spoken. Yusaku should be ashamed of how easily he goes, leaning into his space until their faces are so close he can feel his breath on his lips and smell the remaining gunpowder from the sniper rifle. It’s not a nice scent, but it sure is familiar, and tricks him into relaxing again.

“A good luck kiss for later?” Revolver asks, uncharacteristically hesitant when he brings a hand up to trace his lips with glove-covered fingers, fabric coming off stained with his blood. Yusaku, despite wishing he didn’t want it as bad as he does, leans into the touch. Ai makes a choked off, scandalized sound, but he doesn’t care about what he thinks is happening. “Call it a lucky charm for our imminent battle.”

Yusaku snorts, because the idea of Revolver asking for luck for when they face each other again is absolutely ridiculous but somewhat justified; the few times they had seriously fought each other hadn’t ended well, mostly in ties or non-results. Putting that aside though, Yusaku grabs the fabric of his black turtleneck, tugging at the zipper playfully to pull him even closer, his nose bumping the mask, and not for the first time he has the need to just tear it off him once and for all. But he won’t. One day, maybe, but not today.

“You’re awful at excuses,” Yusaku mumbles, ignoring his distracting thoughts of a tomorrow, lips sliding slightly against his, but leans away when Revolver tries to catch his mouth, pushing him back about half an inch. “Don’t ever lie to me about your intentions.”

His answer sounds like a promise. “I never do.”

Yusaku’s heart does few cartwheels across his chest when Revolver leans in and presses his lips against his, immediately opening his mouth and sighing when his tongue runs over his parted lips, a by now familiar feeling swelling in his chest. Hands come up to rest at his waist, softly pulling him closer until he can’t help but let out the moan he’s been trying to swallow, his own hands coming up to get his hands into the short, dark as night strands, ignoring the pain that blossoms in his chest and swallowing back an annoyed groan as his suit responds to his subconscious.

Every time he gets a bit frisky with Revolver the suit immediately makes it so that he feels every touch like he’s butt naked, even though factually, physically, he’s most definitively not _._ This results in him shivering at the slightest shift of Revolver’s hands against his body, which is dangerous. _Just_ as dangerous, in fact, as the teeth pulling at his lips and the kisses that Revolver starts to trail down his neck over the suit. He is well aware he can’t fall into a full-on make-out session in the middle of a playground that was right next to a wrecked street so early on in the day, with alien life attached to him and probably having to watch it all, but it’s hard to pull away from the wetness and warm and exigency of Revolver’s mouth; he’s absolutely hopeless in the face of their mutual desire.

Thankfully, he gets his second – third, if Ai counts – savior of the day.

He hears the sound of something approaching fast, hears the landing of feet on the ground and instinctually feels a familiar presence around the area, only a few feet away. Soulburner has a penchant for being loud every time he stumbles upon Playmaker and Revolver going at it, with reason. No one wants to see their best friend necking a vigilante/anti-hero/plain criminal that sometimes saves people, which is why he always tries to give them a head up, to save his own skin. That Yusaku has had very in-depth drunken one-sided conversations with him about what exactly he wants Revolver to do to him probably guarantee that Soulburner wants to leave them as alone as possible for sake of his own sanity, as proven by the events of last April’s Fool, but he also takes pity on Yusaku’s dignity, which is why he’s not afraid to approach them when he arrives at the scene.

“Playmaker!” He calls, and successfully bursts the bubble of pure, unadulterated lust he was locked in. Revolver actually growls at the interruption, but Yusaku just pushes his face away as quickly as he can and stands up, more than ready to pretend he isn’t embarrassed about his lack of self-control. Soulburner approaches with glowing fists of fire and his scarf billowing in the wind, his face stuck between a grin and a look of disgust. It looks a bit maniacal in his usually kind face. “I see you are busy!”

Soulburner is always so helpful, a blessing in a way, a true friend. His feedback is as important as Kusanagi-san’s, probably more, and he never lets him down when he needs him— unless he’s about to do a reckless thing that could get him killed; Takeru has an amazing sixth sense to always be on the other side of town when he needs backup, as he did earlier with the big mutant. That doesn’t keep him from poking fun at him every time he’s around Revolver. He’s _surrounded_ by people who just love to snicker at his far too complicated business with him.

“Well, you were late. Again,” Yusaku shrugs, watching his shoulders drop and his grin turn into a pout. Revolver smirks, quietly satisfied, so Yusaku elbows him. He accepts no bullshit related to Soulburner, and he well knows it. “I take it you brought the police with you?”

“I called them over, yeah. People coming from this area were a bit panicked, said you were going to get yourself killed.” Clearly having no fear for his life, Soulburner steps closer and throws an arm around his shoulders, looking him over with a critical eye to evaluate his well-being. Yusaku accepts it without so much as wincing, while Revolver stares like he wants to say a few words about it. Soulburner remains oblivious. “I’m glad to see you’re in one piece, though! Sorry about being late.”

Soulburner throws him a sheepish grin that makes Yusaku roll his eyes in amusement, suddenly feeling tired once again. “Did you manage to deal with the fallout from Go’s front?”

“No issue there,” Soulburner nods, gives him another once over, and then turns towards Revolver, who seems to be seething a bit where he stands. As casually as he can, which is not at all for Yusaku’s eyes, Revolver pulls out a handgun from inside his coat and checks the load. Apparently lacking bullets, he pulls some out of his utility belt and puts them in. Soulburner doesn’t register this as a threat, mostly because he knows Yusaku wouldn’t let Revolver do a stupid thing. “So, what are you up to? I haven’t seen your ugly mug around in a while!”

Soulburner says it in a friendly manner, but it makes little difference for Revolver, who just smirks and fingers the bullets on his hand like he wants to put them to use. Yusaku very nearly rolls his eyes, and decides to check whether Ai is peeking out of his suit or not. He doesn’t see him, so he assumes he’s hiding.

“Oh, you know, terrorizing children and shooting things,” Revolver answers, his voice so cheery it’s obviously fake, and Soulburner openly grins at it. “I see you’re still an awful sidekick—”

“Excuse you, the only sidekick here is your Spectre buddy, who actually owes me a bet—”

“Alright, we’re done here,” Yusaku steps in between them just as Revolver opens his mouth and lightly pulls Soulburner’s arm to guide them towards a nicely sided shadow, not hiding how he has to lean on him to walk without limping. It’s better to cut the conversation here now, because the subject of the bet is brought up. “C’mon, it’s already getting late for me—”

“Aw, but I genuinely missed his snarky snark—”

“Too bad for you, then—”

“Playmaker,” Revolver calls, and Yusaku turns to him without thinking about it twice. They both almost trip because of it, and Soulburner holds him tightly by the arm just in case Yusaku suddenly collapses, which he’s thankful for. “Tomorrow, things will be different.”

Yusaku stares at the harsh line of his mouth and licks his lips, noticing that there’s a hint on his own blood on Revolver’s. The sight is almost poetic, if only because he knows that whatever happens next will determine what they’ll become for good. They’re at the hands of fate now, not that Yusaku would ever deny that all that has lead him here has been anything but destiny.

From the distance, he hears the police sirens coming their way, so he knows the three of them should make themselves sparse. Still, he stands for a few more seconds and then turns around, away from the soulless mask that will never manage to convey any expression at all, away from the feeling of pertinence that Revolver’s words bring him, a frown pulling at his lips as he walks away.

“Try to keep up,” he replies, and Soulburner is clever enough not to question him yet, instead just staring in mild confusion. Ai has been quiet, having retreated back to the suit to hide from Yusaku’s carnal impulses, most likely. He’s not looking forward to explain him to Takeru. “I’m already two steps ahead.”

“And three backward.”

Yusaku ignores the unease the words cause him and walks away without looking back.

 

* * *

 

When Yusaku arrives with Takeru at the building that houses his shared apartment with Kusanagi-san and Jin, the hotdog truck is parked outside. They already changed in the public bathroom Yusaku jumped a few shadows into to get them there, and Takeru was slightly dizzy from it – everyone but Yusaku always got nauseous when he shadow traveled somewhere, unfortunately – but they both make a beeline for the truck despite being tired and needing a shower. Yusaku especially was beginning to feel the grime from walking in a sewer, and his wounds didn’t make it better. He just hopes there’s no internal bleeding his healing factor is not taking care of in favor of his ribs.

He hates having a selective healing factor, but it was better than no healing at all. He really needs some pain killers; feeling your ribs straighten back up from the broken mess they almost became isn’t fun by any means.

On the way back, Ai decided to break his vow of silence and introduce himself to Takeru while they changed in the bathroom, who screamed bloody murder and claimed he was an evil monster before he realized monsters wouldn’t call Yusaku mom and don’t typically try to become friends with people. After the initial shock though, he took it really well:

“Well, he’s cute! And funny, that’s all I could ask for,” he said, while he petted Ai’s head. He was really pleased with this, and looked at Yusaku is if he was trying to make him feel guilty about not hugging the shit out of him. It didn’t work.

Ai was incredibly flattered, but Yusaku cut them off before they inevitably got along _too_ much. Yusaku felt some kinship towards Ai, sure, but he stills knows next to nothing about him— he’s not going to completely trust him just because he’s been unknowingly developing and learning from his consciousness for the last sixteen years. That, in fact, only makes him even more suspicious of him, but talking this out with Kusanagi-san and Takeru would help him work out what to do with him, cuteness notwithstanding.

Yusaku’s ribs are still throbbing when Kusanagi-san opens the back doors of the truck and allows them to climb in, bringing out one extra chair from the supply closet and gesturing for them to get comfortable. He checked in the bathroom how bad the damage was and found ugly bruising all across his chest and back, as well as on the leg the mutant grabbed. He’s pretty sure that if he wasn’t technically a half-alien he would be dead or at the very least really close to it. His healing picked up shortly after they left Revolver behind, which means that he no longer feels like every breath is a chore, but he knows he’s really lucky his lungs weren’t punctured. That wouldn’t have been hard to walk off.

“You guys look awful,” are the first words out of Kusanagi-san’s mouth, and Yusaku agrees. He feels like shit. Takeru is in a far better state than he is, but seems like he’s on his way to falling into a sleep coma, as he sits on the closest chair and leans back with closed eyes. Because he lost communication, he has no real knowledge of what he was doing during the attack, but he was confident it involved some crowd control and hitting people in the face. They could both use a nap.  “Drinks?”

“Please,” Takeru nods, and Yusaku just grunts, heading right for the first-aid kit in the supplies closet and downing three painkillers, dry. He should bandage himself up, if only to keep everything straight as he heals. “I’m sorry I was late to your area. Good thing Revolver was around to help you!”

Kusanagi-san’s eyebrows raise and he shoots Yusaku a pointed look, but he can’t care about him judging his non-relationship with a questionable vigilante when he’s barely awake enough to stand— not that he ever cares, of course.

“He saved me again, so—” Yusaku starts, admittedly a weak defense, but he can’t help it.

Kusanagi-san shrugs. “I didn’t say a thing!”

“They were making out when I got there,” Takeru points out, winking at Yusaku and smiling like he’s innocent. Yusaku knows better; he’s seen his search history. Those glasses and boy-next-door smile can’t fool him. “Revolver’s hands sure like to wander.”

“Shut up and help me,” Yusaku snaps, and Kusanagi-san chuckles. Takeru scrambles to stand up and grab the bandages off his hands, so while he unrolls them Yusaku sighs and tries not to pass out once he sets his ass on his own seat, taking off his shirt as Takeru maneuvers around him to patch him up. Kusanagi-san whistles at the canvas of his skin and offers an apologetic smile. He’s not even angry at the comment; he just really, really wants a nap.

Taking that chance to remind Yusaku he exists, Ai peeks out from the pocket of his hoodie and decides to scare the shit out of Kusanagi-san by stretching out his hand to poke his shoulder. “Hey, are your hotdogs any good?”

To Kusanagi-san’s credit, he does not scream, but he does pale considerably.

“Yusaku,” he starts, voice even, as his hand slowly inches towards his keyboard like he’s about to use it as a weapon, as if Ai were a simple bug. He doesn’t even care about the implications of having somehow birthed someone that could be considered a bug, Yusaku’s too tired for emotions right now. “What the hell is that? A walking health code violation?”

Yusaku thinks about it for a bit. “I did find him in a sewer.”

The panicked glare he gets for that almost makes him grin. Almost.

“Why is everyone so rude here, Yusaku-chan? You barely even reacted to me!” Ai scrambles further out of his hoodie and sits down on the table like he’s been doing so his whole life, which is a tricky concept, because he’s been alive for little more than a couple of hours but at the same time it’s been sixteen years— Takeru touches a tender spot, which snaps him out of his thoughts, back to the present and the drink pushed into his hand. Kusanagi-san does not approve of Ai moving or _talking_ for that matter, but he’s smart enough to not touch him. Yusaku is sure his stickiness isn’t nicer to the naked skin. “Fire boy here screamed!”

“I haven’t heard that nickname in years,” Takeru mumbles nonchalantly, guiding Yusaku’s arms upwards so he can properly wrap him up, and Yusaku rolls his eyes as a response. “I kind of missed it.”

Kusanagi-san very subtly grabs a few napkins and then dumps them over Ai’s head, who just rolls in them like he just got gifted a blanket. It’s actually kind of cute, not that Yusaku will say that out loud, but it does make him notice that something is coming off Ai’s body… oh no. He would have to deal with that later. He couldn’t have Ai walking around letting off _juices._

“So, what exactly is…?” Kusanagi-san drifts off, so Ai helpfully provides his name with a thumbs up. Kusanagi stares at him like, well— like he’s seen an alien. “What is Ai?”

Yusaku gives him the short, simple explanation he gave himself, wincing when Takeru pulls at the bandages and adjusts them accordingly when they prove to be too loose. “He’s the alien I got my DNA spliced with. Found him in a sewer; his bits came looking for me, I believe. Revolver called him an Ignis, and he knows about the Hanoi Project.”

Kusanagi-san sits down on his chair heavily and sighs, looking out of his depth. Yusaku can relate.

“Ok, then… what are we going to do with him?”

The question makes Yusaku’s thought process halt, and then start back up so fast he feels dizzy. His concussion probably hasn’t healed yet, so it’s probably for the best he’s not taking that nap he wants. It occurs to him they should discuss Hanoi’s attack first, but his brain is too scrambled and Ai seemed like a priority right now.

“Revolver talked about him like he knew what he is, and he wanted to take him away— I obviously didn’t let him,” Yusaku frowns at the floor, reliving the fight in his head, and comes to the obvious conclusion. “If Revolver wants him, it’s safe to assume Hanoi does too… which means Ai either has the knowledge they want or _is_ something they want.”

All three of them stare at Ai after hearing those words, and he stops rubbing the napkins all over himself to stare back with a sheepish expression. When none of them talk Ai seems to get a bit nervous, but he still speaks out, probably because he has a good sense of self-preservation. Yusaku wishes he had one of those.

“To be honest, I can tell you lots about what I am but I don’t really know anything about these Hanoi fellas,” he says, and swallows when all they do is blink at him. Behind him, Takeru stifles a chuckle, because Ai looks like he’s scared for his life. “I know the things they did to the kids and who did it, but probably the same things you already know about them. I should mention, though…”

Kusanagi-san taps his fingers on his desk and frowns, looking suspicious. Yusaku only stares as Takeru checks his bandages again and deems them good enough, glancing at him standing up out of the corner of his eye and seeing him moving his chair back to its place in front of Kusanagi-san’s desk. “What is it?”

“If Hanoi wants me… then they’re going to want my friends,” Ai slumps his shoulders, looking genuinely distraught. Yusaku feels some sympathy he tries to smother down, but it rings too close to home for him to ignore it. “Technically I don’t know them yet, but I can feel them… they’re like family.”

“So there are more of you?” Takeru asks, voice kind, and Ai nods. “Where are they?”

“I don’t know,” he admits with some reluctance, and it makes Yusaku exchange a look with Kusanagi-san. The more Ai talked, the more Yusaku’s perception of him changed. He couldn’t decide if more of him were a good thing or not yet. “There’s one for every child that was kidnapped. I could probably take you to an approximation of where they are, but since Yusaku-chan woke me up they must be following closely. Their own tracers are going to start looking for their partners over the next week.”

Yusaku blinks, trying to process the new information as fast as possible and getting increasingly frustrated at his own stumbling over his unorganized thoughts. “Tracers?”

“My bits you crushed!” Ai clarifies sounding cheerier than what the words would suggest, and Kusanagi-san chokes on his soda. Takeru just snorts, hiding behind his own drink. “What?”

“How do they work?” Yusaku reaches out for his hoodie and then thinks about how he was carrying Ai, with his sticky juices, all the way from downtown. He’d rather just… take a spare shirt from the staff closet instead.

“Well, there comes a time in our lives in which we reach enough age to come out of our little cocoons and be with our mommies,” Ai’s voice becomes incredibly cheesy as he explains this, and he even props his head upon his hand like he’s retelling a nice story. Somehow, he manages to look slightly mischievous. “So to avoid getting lost and killed and make sure we find them our cocoon sends out a search party!”

Takeru is the one that speaks up, leaning back in his chair comfortably but having an otherwise disturbed expression on his face, fidgeting nervously with his straw. “So, am I gonna find one of those in the shower?”

“ _Maybe—_ ”

“If you don’t know where they are, how can we find them?” Yusaku interrupts. He doesn’t want to think about how high his chances of coming across Ai-bits in the shower could have been. “There must be a way.”

Ai stares at him with a grim face and then slowly shakes his head.

“I have a vague idea of where they could be, but someone else could get to them first,” Ai hesitates, glancing in between the three of them like he isn’t sure his words will be welcome. It makes Yusaku nervous, like a switch suddenly got flipped inside of him. The feeling is gone as soon as it comes, but it does leave his mind reeling with even more questions. “The only one who may know for sure…”

Yusaku knows the answer before he’s even finished. “Is Revolver. And I just told him to fuck off.”

“You did?” Kusanagi-san asks, sounding genuinely confused. Yusaku can’t blame him; he knows he talks about Revolver as often as a schoolgirl with a crush or an obsessed fanboy would, but he just does it for the job, no other reason at all, really— or at least that’s what he tells them. “What did he do now? Deny you a kiss?”

“I was witness to an extremely long mating courting so I would say no!” Ai quips, and Yusaku shoots him a glare so venomous he hides under his napkin. Traitors, all of them.

“We had an argument,” Yusaku says, trying to keep himself from sounding defensive, but Takeru’s eyebrows raising and his incredulous blinking tells him he isn’t successful. He can hear the incredulous _‘again?’_ he’s holding back. “He probably knows exactly what Hanoi is after, but he refused to tell me— as he usually does.”

“Does that mean we have to go against him too?” Takeru groans, throwing his head back against his chair, and Kusanagi-san nods in understanding. Yusaku frowns; they seem too laidback about this for his taste. “Yusaku, no offense but I really don’t want to see you angst over him—”

“I don’t _angst—_ ”

“Then you brood,” Kusanagi-san chuckles, raising his hands in defense when Yusaku glares at him too. “Can’t you two just—”

“ _No,_ ” Yusaku spits out the word. Everyone quiets down at that, but Ai keeps looking at him like he wants to say something about it but doesn’t dare. Yusaku would rather he keep it that way. “It’s not that simple.”

“Don’t we know it,” Takeru mumbles, so Yusaku kicks him in the shin with his good leg. He sticks out his tongue in response. “What are we doing, then? If Hanoi knows, and Revolver knows, and Ai barely knows anything, then what can we do that they aren’t already?”

Silence engulfs the room, and for once Yusaku comes up blank. He thought that having Ai would be enough to gain some advantage over the other players on the board, but he couldn’t have anticipated that his mission implicated an Easter egg hunt. If Revolver probably knows the locations already and Hanoi has the resources to find the rest of the Ignis, then looking for them themselves was going to be not only reckless but hopeless, a likely waste of time. They could come across any of them in the middle of their search, and they weren’t properly prepared for a solo assault against Hanoi or, despite how much it hurts to admit it, a fair, no holding back at all fight against Revolver. They lacked the manpower.

Ai surprises him by speaking up.

“Perhaps if you let me touch fire boy I could… come up with something?” He twirls his thumbs together, looking shyly up at them. Yusaku immediately exchanges a look with Takeru, who looks like his mind ran to the same thought as his, judging by his paleness. Kusanagi-san is the only one that doesn’t seem to have a dirty mind, because he just hums in question. “He’s one of the kids, so he’s linked to one of my friends! If you let me have a look at him I might be able to help.”

Takeru looks really awkward when he clears his throat. “Touch… where? For what?”

“Anywhere!” Ai throws him what looks like a grin. Takeru isn’t reassured. “I’m just gonna tap into that brains of yours for a sec, nothing more. Just have a quick look around.”

A pause, and then Takeru shakes his head. “I don’t think I’m comfortable with this.”

“Do it for the team,” Kusanagi-san shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. Yusaku just lets this happens; if he had to touch Ai without knowing he was covered in more than sewer waste, Takeru could handle a mind probe.

“I’ll hold your hand if you want,” Yusaku offers, and gets a glare in return. He shrugs. “I’m sure it won’t hurt. Right?”

“Right!” Ai agrees, stretching out a hand towards Takeru, who stares in growing hesitation. “Hey, it’s alright! I don’t bite friends.”

“Reassuring,” Takeru mumbles, and then locks eyes with Yusaku. A thousand words seem to be exchanged between them in that second, in which Yusaku probably wins an argument about this being a necessity; while getting to the Ignis before Hanoi or Revolver wouldn’t give them answers, it would give them leverage, perhaps just enough to be able to interrogate a pressed Revolver, with the advantage that they would be stopping any evil schemes Hanoi might try to do with the Ignis at their disposal.

Takeru sighs, knowing the Yusaku in his imagination has a point. “Fine. But, does it have to be right now? I do have class later, so I would rather my brain doesn’t fail me.”

Ah. Yusaku forgot college was a thing for a second there. Kusanagi-san chuckles, noticing how the perked up to attention at that. “Takeru does have a point there. This could have side effects. Hopefully not dangerous ones, but side effects nonetheless.”

“I would rather get it done right now…” Yusaku pauses, gauging Takeru’s reaction. He just frowns in annoyance. “…but Revolver is the only one who knows about Ai right now, and it’s not like he’ll run to tell Hanoi about it. They probably have their own way of knowing, but considering this was Kogami’s experiment and he’s gone now it might give us a day, two if we’re lucky, before they start hunting them down too.”

Kusanagi-san sets his drink down on his desk, nodding along to his words. “Yeah, Revolver is the one that might be a problem time wise. You think tonight is alright for this?”

He asks Takeru, who looks both uncomfortable but resigned. Yusaku genuinely feels bad about subjecting him to this, but it’s either that or finding a way that would put them on the rear end of the chase, even with their knowledge advantage over Hanoi. They don’t have the resources to search all of Den City, and asking for help would be involving people none of them want to get too involved with Hanoi. Go and Blue Angel would probably help, since they have developed a certain dislike of Hanoi over the years, thanks to the group being responsible for so many city-wide chaos and uptakes in criminal activities, but they have way too little knowledge of what is brewing right now to go to them with this at this stage.

“Tonight, then,” Takeru nods, and Yusaku feels relief in his chest. They make eye contact, and he knows without a doubt that he isn’t doing this against his will. Takeru is as willing to risk himself as he is, this is something they’ve both known since day one. Crossing his arms, he points at Ai with a thumb. “You’re gonna interrogate him now?”

Ai scrambles to stand up, looking scandalized. “Interrogate me!? Why? I’m on your side!”

Yusaku rolls his eyes and stands up, wincing at the tightness of his bandages. The painkillers are already wearing off, but the pain isn’t nearly as bad as before. He takes his hoodie and then grabs Ai with the edge of a sleeve, careful not to let him touch his skin, and starts making his way to the door of the hotdog truck.

“Until we’re completely sure we can trust you, you’re a hostage.”

“Aw, not fair!”

 

* * *

 

Ai whines about him not having any ulterior motives all the way down through the front door of their basement level apartment until Yusaku gets into the bathroom, at which point he stops talking mid-sentence and looks around curiously. Yusaku drops him in the sink counter and then throws the hoodie at their laundry basket, looking into their drawers for some brand new soap and a soft hand towel.

“Are you going to bathe me?” Ai asks, sounding impossibly excited. Yusaku bites back a sigh and nods. “Aw, I knew you cared for me after all!”

“Shut up, you’re just filthy,” Yusaku retorts, ignoring the several complains that follow his statement. “What? It’s true. I found you in a sewer, not to mention you probably have some leftovers from your cocoon. I’m not carrying you around like that.”

“It’s not my fault I ended up there!” Ai shrieks unnecessarily loudly when Yusaku opens up the sink and grabs him, sticking him under the water stream for three counted seconds without mercy. Ai comes out gasping. “Oh, that’s cold. That’s really cold. I don’t like water.”

“Get used to it,” Yusaku shakes his head, and then grabs the hand towel to get it wet and soapy to rub it across Ai’s skin, watching some grime and yellowish fluids come off with no small amount of disgust. He can’t waste any time though, because he needs to take a shower, eat and hurry up to class, so this is the perfect time to interrogate him. He has, of course, many questions, but he should probably start with what he knows next to nothing about: “Tell me, what are the Ignis, exactly? How are you here?”

Ai hums in though, probably coming up with the best explanation he’s capable of as Yusaku rinses the towel and runs it over him again, careful not to pull or push or rub too hard. “From what I recall from my time as a lab tube baby, before my proper incubation process started, Dr. Kogami was tasked with studying some DNA samples from a spaceship that crashed on Earth about, what, eighteen, nineteen years now? Apparently, the planet of the, ahem, _visitors,_ is gone, from what they could recover from the ship’s log, and they hoped they ones driving the ship were able to find an inhabitable planet to start up the race again, but they died in the landing.”

Yusaku frowns. “The ship records were in a human language?”

“Eh, I’m not sure? This information was downloaded into my consciousness during the time of the experiments, but if I had to guess I would say the ship probably had available translations in case of an emergency,” Ai raises his arms over his head when Yusaku starts rubbing his sides, looking like he’s enjoying the attention, as well as telling the story. Yusaku must admit he’s decent enough at it. “But that's not the important stuff for you. Dr. Kogami managed to figure out how our biology worked, our advantages over humans, and wanted to replicate that, but he needed further grow and test tubes and no companion meant no development from us, since our growth has to be in consciousness as well.”

“Companion?” Yusaku pauses, and Ai whines in reiteration, so he goes back to running a finger across his little back with the towel, turning him around to reach properly.

“Yeah, we depend on a mother consciousness to be able to grow our own. He wanted to ignore that part of the process, but we weren’t developing properly. He was frustrated, so…"

"So he found someone to link you to so you would naturally develop," Yusaku finishes quietly for him when he trails off, and only sighs at Ai's nod. It was to be expected. "So Dr. Kogami figured out what you needed to give him the results he wanted, spliced our DNA with samples from yours to make us compatible and then…?"

It wasn't hard for Yusaku to come to that conclusion. It was logical for him that if you need an alien being to be connected to a host of sorts for them to grow and you have no compatible subjects you create the compatibility yourself, force the link between the consciousnesses through biological trial and error until something clicks. It makes him feel suddenly miserable, to have confirmation of Kogami Kiyoshi's fucked up ideas, but it's not surprising at all. He wonders if this is part of the things Revolver wants to keep from him, the details of the procedures done on them, and bitterness rises in his throat, simultaneously hot and cold as winter air, almost painful. An outsider has no right to decide what's best for him, for _them._ He won't let him.

He still wonders _why_ , though.

“It’s a bit fuzzy, but I believe he was disappointed with how slowly we were growing once our cocoons took shape. It took me a decade and a half to wake up, as you know!”

"Do you know what his objective was?" Yusaku asks, his voice softer than he expected, and Ai shakes his head. "How do you even know all this?"

"Dr. Kogami probably wanted us to know he created us so we would be easier to probe at with his scientist tools," Ai shrugs apologetically at him, but Yusaku doesn't blame him for his lack of knowledge about a sociopathic scientist with a God complex. In his eyes, Ai is just another victim— brought to life only because a greedy man couldn't mind his business. "I really don't know. I have more details on the specific procedures, what they did to your body—"

"That's fine, I can get an idea,” Yusaku interrupts, willing some sudden nausea away and rinsing out the hand towel once more, to scrub the soap off Ai’s body. He tries not to think of white walls and endless hours of being poked out under his skin. “How do the Ignis usually breed?"

"From what I know, I would have one parent that puts out one egg-like thing – it's hard to describe in human terms – that's biologically and mentally linked to us, allowing us to grow and develop our own personalities based on their feedback. Kinda like, we're them and they're us."

Yusaku pauses. "So you don't have only one parent?"

Ai falls into silence and Yusaku waits, but he only gets a shrug. Which is… suspicious. "You grew me, Yusaku-chan. And some of your friends grew the others. It's funny that you're all so close together!"

"Must be fate," Yusaku mumbles, not pleased with his deflection. He takes notice for further questioning later, but for now, he’s more curious about the things Ai knows and doesn’t. “What’s your purpose, then? You said your planet is gone so—”

“I’m not sure myself,” Yusaku lets go of Ai, letting him sit on the edge of the sink, kicking his legs in thought. He looks carefully devoid of any negative emotion, but Yusaku suspects that it’s a screen. There’s no way he isn’t curious about what he was created for, or what he must do from this day forward. Still, he waits in silence, putting the soap away and getting the excess of water off the hand towel he used to clean him to throw it in the laundry bin. He could have probably put some more effort into getting him properly washed, but it was getting late he hasn’t even had lunch yet—he’s not looking forward to the consequences of healing without having a proper meal first. He’s _starving_.

Eventually, Ai speaks up. “You know, I don’t really care about any funny plans you or those Hanoi guys may have… I just want to be with my friends, and with my kin— and that includes you, just so you know!”

Yusaku can’t help but snort. “You think you have a choice about the role you’ll play? This is bigger than both of us, from what I can gather.”

“Then we’ll face it together!” Ai pumps a fist into the air, water dripping down his body and flying drops hitting Yusaku in the face. His expression is determined, like there’s no space to question his statement. As if just because he said it, it would become a fact that Yusaku would be beside him at all times. It feels almost reflective, in a way, of his own confidence regarding his investigation, the years of chasing down criminals and breaking more bones that he could keep track of, both his own and other’s.

It hits him that perhaps Ai is not being overdramatic when he calls him his mom. He truly is somehow _his,_ in a very direct but simultaneously indirect way. Their personalities couldn’t be more different, but they at least share that ironclad security in themselves and their ideas. Is it foolish that Ai believes he will be able to just live in peace? Yes, but Yusaku was as much of a fool once, trying to run from himself and his past before he promised to himself no more of that.

“Yusaku!” Takeru calls, slamming a hand against the bathroom door and knocking three times, startling him out of his thoughts. Ai is now trying, unsuccessfully, to dry himself up with the edge of a hand towel hanging from an ornament on the wall he’s sure none of them ever use, so he reaches out to help him, wrapping him tightly in it and holding him closely. “Are you done yet? Kusanagi-san made lunch for us and I _really_ need a shower.”

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready. Eat without me,” Yusaku answers, and then opens the bathroom door to shove Ai into his arms. He gives Takeru’s surprised eyes a hard stare. “Don’t let him out of your sight— or near the toaster for that matter.”

He closes the door to insulted screaming and grins.

 

* * *

 

Yusaku’s content mood lasts about two hours, one of which he spends napping and the other trying to figure out what to do with Ai while he’s in class. Kusanagi-san will be working and Takeru’s hands are just as tied with his own schedule to stick to, so it’s with a great wariness that he knocks on Jin’s bedroom door, holding Ai in his hands and hoping for the best.

Miraculously, the door opens.

“Yeah?” Jin asks, leaning against the door frame and looking down at him so Yusaku wouldn’t have to crane his neck up too much. He’s almost as tall as his brother, but not even half as strong, and his voice as soft and kind as ever. Right now, he looks like one would expect a constantly exhausted online college student and hermit would look: pale, messy, with wrinkled Pokémon pajamas and dark bags beneath his eyes. Yusaku has no doubt he looks the same.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I need a favor,” Yusaku says, and then looks pointedly down at Ai. Jin follows his gaze and seems to do a double take, blinking and going as far as to rub his eyes to confirm what he’s saying. Ai shoots Jin what was probably meant to be an encouraging look, waving at him, but he just stares and gives no answer, so Yusaku continues. “Would you mind watching Ai until I’m back? I don’t trust him enough to leave him alone.”

Jin’s brain seems to plug back in. “Is this… your new pet? Is it a reptile or something?”

“Hey! I’m my own person, thank you very much,” Ai huffs, interrupting the words that were about to come out of Yusaku’s mouth, and Jin actually takes a step back, looking even more baffled and confused than before at hearing him talk. “You look like a good kid so I’ll let this one slide, but watch yourself!”

“Yusaku,” Jin starts, his voice full of disturbed wonder. He’s just glad he isn’t screaming. “Is this a superhero thing?”

“Something like that,” Yusaku nods, and then extends his arm as if to let him grab Ai off him. This may be an issue, because he’s clinging to him like a koala to a tree, but he’s not going to expose Ai to college students. Not yet. “Are you in?”

Jin makes a noise Yusaku can’t quite place, and then receives a nonchalant shrug. It seems that whatever shock he felt is already gone. “Sure, he looks funny. Does he like Doritos?”

“Don’t feed him Doritos,” he says at the same time Ai screams an enthusiastic _‘yeah!’_ , and then rolls his eyes. “We don’t know what could happen if he eats that.”

“Time to find out then,” Jin meets his eyes, a twinkle of mischief that reminds him of his brother shining in his eyes, and Yusaku thinks about it for one second too long. Ai has now stood up on his arm, precariously balanced, and is _begging him_ to let him try the snacks.

Aw, hell. Whatever. “If he gets sick—”

“I’ll take full responsibility,” Jin finishes, and Ai actually _jumps_ at him, landing on his shoulder and making him stumble more out of reflex than out of shock. His voice is shaky and strangled when he talks, but he seems to quickly warm up to Ai’s attempts to nuzzle him. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

“I’ll miss you, mom, but I can’t miss this chance!”

Jin grins at Ai’s comment, and Yusaku sighs and shrugs. The door is closed in his face and Yusaku stares, trying to ignore the unease creeping its way up to his chest. There was nothing to worry about, a few snacks wouldn’t kill an alien, and Ai seems to have some sense of self-preservation, so he probably wouldn’t eat something he wasn’t positive about being able to digest—

It occurs to him that he’s worrying too much about an alien he met not even twelve hours ago, and he turns around to go find Takeru so they can take the train together. He’s sure everything will be alright and no one would die.

And if Ai does like Doritos, then at least Yusaku knows he’s not soulless and has some backbone— Jin only eats the flaming hot ones, so that was bound to be quite the experience. Good grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was this worth it? yes.


	4. two faced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! Really sorry about that, but in between finals week and no internet i haven't really had the time (or motivation) to write. This was supposed to be up a bit earlier but i very conviniently got sick. Nice.
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy 10k of Yusaku and Ryoken being stupid! There's plot if you squint.

Yusaku is assaulted from behind barely ten minutes after he steps a foot inside campus.

Thankfully, it is not a bioterrorist trying to kill him, nor any kind of physical attack that would worsen his still sore, miraculously not bleeding wounds. It wouldn’t be classy for him to do that in the middle of the common grounds garden, over all the perfectly green grass. He doesn’t want to bleed on the flowers. It’s also a sunny day, the heat making him regret not picking a t-shirt instead of a sweater, and there are several students around, throwing Frisbees and studying in the ground and some even having sun showers, stretching like cats. At least half of them looked sleep deprived, and there was a guy tickling another one having a nap with a feather. It was very typical college student behavior, but Yusaku isn’t reassured by it when he’s hearing his name being called from the other side of the lawn.

The voice make his steps halt, and he turns just in time to avoid a collision as Miyu comes to a hurried stop in front of him, apparently having power walked her way over. She’s wearing loose yoga pants and a crop top that proved she could break you in half if she wanted to, as well as an angry frown and sunglasses.

“Where the hell were you?”

She sounds pissed. Yusaku looks off to the side for a second, thinking of an excuse and wishing Takeru hasn’t ditched him because he was running late. When he looks at her again, the sunglasses are on top of her head, messing up her fringe, and she’s raising very insulted eyebrows at him. “I slept in.”

Miyu looks like she might actually punch him. “ _Again?_ ”

Yusaku takes a mindless step back at her aggression. He may have no sense of self-preservation most of the time, but he doesn’t fancy getting even more beat up today. “Yes. I don’t sleep at night, it just doesn’t happen.”

“We missed you in yoga,” she crosses her arms, huffing like he’s being particularly stubborn, which he is, and someone far away behind him whistles. Miyu makes a rude gesture at them, so Yusaku figures it wasn’t anyone she liked. When she turns her eyes towards him again, he can’t help but let his shoulders rise defensively. “This is like the third class you miss.”

“I’m not a teacher,” is Yusaku’s weak protest, to which he only gets a smack on his arm. He winces; Miyu packs a good punch and has an even better aim. “What? I’m _not_ a teacher.”

“No, you’re a model,” Miyu agrees, but it feels like a threat. There’s something incredibly steely about her blue eyes today, despite how bright and lively they usually are for their grey toned color. Yusaku feels like they’re having two conversations at the same time, and he doesn’t want to examine that too closely. “You’re the only one besides me who can pull them off perfectly, and I can’t explain the positions properly if I don’t have you. I don’t want to twist some poor inflexible soul around.”

“You twisted _me,_ ” Yusaku says, bordering on a whine. He would say he suffered to get this good at yoga, but he really didn’t. Miyu just helped him get better. It hurt. “I don’t see why I’m a requirement. I just do yoga for fun.”

“As if you ever have fun,” Miyu rolls her eyes, and Yusaku has enough self-respect to _want_ to protest against that, but he’s also aware that it’s the truth. He won’t lie to himself this once. “When was the last time you went on a date, huh?”

 _Well,_ Yusaku thinks, blinking in thought, _that’s one way to change the subject._ “I don’t date.”

Miyu opens her mouth like she’s about to tear him a new one, and Yusaku fears for his life for about two hot seconds until a hand falls on his shoulder from behind and Aoi steps forwards, shooting him a tiny smile as a hello and then wrapping her arms around Miyu, dropping a kiss on her cheek, resulting in her immediately changing her behavior completely. Yusaku tries not to show how relieved he is by the interruption.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” Miyu asks, her voice softer than it ever is when she’s talking to anyone else, and Aoi pouts. Yusaku takes a step back, thinking he may be able to leave, but Miyu glances at him out of the corner of her eye and he stays where he is. She’s apparently not done harassing him. When her eyes shift down at Aoi, her frown turns into one of worry. “You’re also late. I had to eat by myself.”

Aoi looks as beaten as Yusaku feels, which comes as no surprise. He figures being Blue Angel isn’t any easier than being Playmaker, even if it comes with the perks of not being shot at by the police sometimes. “Sorry, I know we agreed to lunch, but there was traffic because of an attack downtown—”

“It’s alright,” Miyu interrupts, leaning down to kiss her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He looks away mostly for the sake of giving them privacy, and also because it feels wrong to watch Blue Angel, someone who’s usually the life of the party, be looked after like she wouldn’t be able to either drown them or sent them flying. He still doesn’t really understand how her abilities work, even after so many years, but he isn’t about to ask. That probably would break some sort of unspoken hero code or something.

Aoi smiles up at Miyu like she hung the moon in the sky, and Yusaku feels both happy for them and a bit uncomfortable by the open devotion. She turns towards him and sighs, inspecting him from head to toe with a careful eye, and then nodding when she comes to whatever conclusion she wanted. Yusaku again has the feeling there are _two_ conversations going on, though the correct number would be three, because his conversation with Aoi seems to be completely different to the one he was having with Miyu.

 _I must still be concussed,_ Yusaku frowns, because his thoughts are really distracting. He didn’t have this issue when the voice – apparently _Ai_ – was still whispering in his head. He vaguely wonders if this is why Miyu looks so pissed off; maybe she’s missing her voice too and getting worried about it. He wonders if the weird ringing Takeru mentioned has anything to do with this.

“Fujiki, you’re spacing out,” Aoi says, and Yusaku snaps her eyes in her direction, feeling a bit embarrassed. It’s never his intention to _ignore_ people, but sometimes he got carried away with himself, and the way his morning went guarantees that he has many important things to think about related to his life mission. Aoi, whose hair is pulled up in a messy bun, has a wrinkled blue blouse on, and is usually the one spacing out from exhaustion, looks very amused. “Had a busy night?”

Yusaku blinks at the out she just gave him, thinking it’s a weird comment, and then looks at his shoes. “Insomnia is a bitch.”

Miyu mumbles something under her breath that sounds kind of rude, so he glances at her and deadpans: “What are you even doing here still? Did you sign up for another elective?”

Miyu seems to bristle, and Aoi sets a hand on her shoulder to keep her from murdering him. Behind them, a guy’s water bottle spontaneously explodes on his face. Yusaku feels lucky to not be the one exploding, so he’ll count his blessings and say nothing about _that._

“What’s your major again?” He asks instead, and takes a step back when Miyu takes one forward. He’s playing with fire here, but it does bring him some amusement to see Miyu fighting her instincts and not punch his teeth out for the sake of not causing a scene. Or murder him. Next time they sparred, she was probably going to be merciless.

“I hate you,” Miyu throws her hands up helplessly, and Aoi giggles, leaning into her and whispering something in her ear. Miyu’s cheeks get a bit pink, and Yusaku suddenly needs to tail it out of here. He makes eye contact with her, and Miyu raises her eyebrows, unspoken words floating between them. “You’re really late, you know? Ryoken’s not going to be pleased.”

Yusaku rolls his eyes. “Keep out of my business.”

“I will when you get a date,” she counters, and Yusaku shakes his head and nods at Aoi before walking away, perhaps a bit quicker than necessary. He’s not running away, not at all. He’s just... making sure he won’t get roped into a discussion about his love life again. Yes. That was it. “I’ll tell him you _‘slept in’_!”

Yusaku flips her off and goes on his way. Honestly, he couldn’t get one moment of peace.

 

* * *

 

If he’s being completely honest, Yusaku has no legitimate reasons to suspect anything is shady about Kogami Ryoken.

Kusanagi-san has pointed this out to him since the very beginning, and so has Takeru since he found out about him also living in Den City and attending the same university as them. They are both aware keeping an eye on him is necessary simply because he’s the son of Dr. Kogami and thus a possible threat or target for Hanoi, but there’s nothing remotely questionable about him if you ignore that little fact.

He lives alone, which isn’t odd for someone with a big heritance and no close family members. He’s trying to become a pediatrician and thus is on his way to med school, but shows no interest for any of the subjects his father used to study, or at least not on very specific terms – people are allowed to care about genetics in a world filled with mutants and metahumans and all kinds of weird things, after all – and he mostly keeps to himself apart from his confusing friendship with Miyu and how he seems to be friendly towards just about anyone if they are not an asshole.

He’s also extremely generous and considerate. Yusaku tries and fails to not being impressed by it, but there’s a reason Kogami Ryoken’s jokingly known as a knightly gentleman among the student body. Yusaku would say he has no idea how he ended up getting attached to him, except that it was obvious; Kogami Ryoken was so charming that it was impossible not to unconsciously try to get him to like you, which wasn’t really the case with him— what actually endeared Yusaku to him was how he tried to understand him. Almost no one had ever done that before and it was a bit shocking to see such interest coming from such a flawless individual who seemed to have his life perfectly put together despite the fact that his dad was kind of crazy.

Yusaku will deny having developed a crush with time, but he will not deny he’s absolutely whipped. No, it’s not the same. There’s a difference between wanting to have someone’s babies and sighing at the mere thought of them.

And then there’s the Revolver thing.

Another reason for Yusaku to be always increasingly frustrated with the over-dramatic smug asshole: his weird, complicated non-relationship with him doesn’t allow him to pursue anyone else. Not that he _would_ ; apart from Ryoken he’s really not interested in anyone else and quite likes it that way, because he isn’t about to involve any civilians in the mess of a life he deals with. It is frustrating to look at Kogami Ryoken, feel something stirring in his chest, and then come across Revolver and get absolutely shit-faced with flirty words and kisses that shouldn’t linger for hours though.

Yusaku shouldn’t suspect anything of Ryoken, but he does. The lack of acknowledgment of his father or any other family member, the scars, his clever mind and the sharp tongue he struggles to bite down on has given Yusaku reason to think he’s hiding something, and every time he falls through that rabbit hole he reaches one single possible, workable conclusion after hours of research and rereading files and registries and hacking the security cameras around his house.

Kogami Ryoken is working with Revolver.

That’s Yusaku’s strongest theory, if he ignores the other dozen that pop up in his head at ungodly hours of the night. The second strongest theory is that Ryoken _is_ Revolver, but he can’t trust himself to look more into that when he’s so obviously biased to think that because of his personal involvement with both of them. Takeru and Kusanagi-san don’t really bother to look much into it, either because they don’t care that much about Revolver’s identity or they think Yusaku is insane. Both are valid thoughts; there has to be some degree of insanity to him for him to be able to put on a bodysuit and go out to punch terrorists in the face on a daily basis.

His proof is admittedly somewhat flimsy. Yusaku has several profiles that seem to fit Revolver’s personality, and Kogami Ryoken _barely_ fits only two of them. Their personalities seem to be compatible but not entirely similar; Ryoken doesn’t seem to have a death wish non-related to college, for one, nor does he try to call Yusaku a fool every time he asks him something. He also doesn’t seem to have invulnerable skin, but Yusaku hasn’t quite tried to test that out yet. It would be weird to just punch Ryoken out of the blue to test it and he can’t come up with an excuse for it because he’s so _kind_.

There shouldn’t be any confusion here, though. Revolver is also kind, and thoughtful, and even a bit of a gentleman, he just tries to outright deny it each time he shows it while Ryoken just shrugs helplessly, accepting it but not indulging in it, almost like he’s not proud of it. Another similarity between them is the _money_ , of course; Ryoken is absolutely loaded and Revolver, while not making it explicit, has implied he has the expensive resources he needs for pretty much everything. It’s the most important thing he’s been able to link between them, and paired with the fact that Ryoken lives in the middle of fucking nowhere, on a mountain cliff-side looking off to a beach, it could match up perfectly for them to work together.

It’s a bit hard to think of hardened vigilante Revolver and considerate civilian Ryoken as a pair, but Yusaku’s imagination certainly does wonders, and so does his investigation.

It’s probably the reason why he looks for any signs of bruising or exhaustion on Ryoken’s face when he comes into the classroom, twenty minutes late for class. He finds none, of course, but Yusaku has never seen Revolver be tired after a fight either. He might be grasping at straws in an attempt to make it all easier on his heart, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge that at all. He constantly ignores his heart anyways, because that would just make his problems even more glaringly obvious and disrupting of the precarious balance his life is in.

Ryoken also doesn’t seem frustrated or pissed off about anything, which is another disappointment; Revolver seemed to care an awful lot about him taking Ai away, and he was hoping Ryoken would somehow reflect that if they’re the same person or working together. Instead, Ryoken looks up at him from his seat as he approaches with a soft smile and a wave of his hand towards the free seat beside him at the end of the third row, right up against the wall just as Yusaku likes it.

His heart flutters in his chest and Yusaku sighs. He’s so glad the professor doesn’t care about him, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to just casually waltz in and sit down beside Ryoken like he always does. He should probably break that habit.

“Slept in again?” Ryoken asks in a whisper, leaning over from his seat and looking at him with eyes twinkling with humor. Yusaku wonders just how done he looks with life for him to be this amused.

“Yeah,” he answers, looking straight ahead at the teacher and taking in a deep breath that almost makes him wince. His ribs are doing dramatically ok now, but there’s soreness in that area now and the bruising will probably be there until tomorrow unless he takes another power nap. He sighs again, turning his eyes towards Ryoken. “I need a nap.”

Ryoken snorts and seems to bite his own tongue, probably keeping himself from roasting what little there is left of Yusaku’s dignity. “Had a busy night?”

Yusaku thinks of being blasted through a fucking wall, coming across an alien and making out with the smug asshole and shrugs. That was just his _morning._ Last night was relatively tame in comparison. “I guess.”

“That explains the hickey, then,” Ryoken says, and it takes Yusaku a second to process the words. His hand flies up to his neck, fingers pressing in and scrambling to find the supposed hickey. He winces when his nails rub against sensitive skin, proving Ryoken right. Why did he even have a healing factor if this kept happening? Ryoken’s smile is absolutely devious, once again tickling Yusaku’s thing for pointing out similarities between him and Revolver. He regrets ever waking up. “I guess that’s a no to our date?”

Yusaku barely keeps himself from sighing out loud in frustration. He now distinctly remembers Revolver’s lips on his neck at the same time he replays Ryoken’s invitation from last week in his mind over and over again. It would be nice if he could just… combine the images into one, but _of course not._ He’s been subtly trying to not lead Ryoken on for the sake of not getting his hopes up about him possibly being Revolver, but it’s hard when every time he looks at him he is greeted by sweet smiles, starry eyes and ripped muscles trying to escape from the confines of his shirt sleeves.

He’s absolutely helpless, which is why he says: “It’s not a no, and it’s also not a hickey. This was an accident— a lab accident.”

Ryoken’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and he clearly struggles not to smirk and point out how ridiculous the second part of his statement is. Still, it’s not unkind even if he seems a bit let down once the amusement passes, which Yusaku hates. There’s probably nothing worse than Ryoken’s disappointed expression; he’s incredibly weak to it.

“I’m sure,” he mumbles, and looks back towards the front of the classroom, to the teacher saying words he doesn’t have enough of an attention span for. Yusaku didn’t even bother with them when he arrived, which probably says a lot about how much he cares about this elective. He would be screwed if Ryoken didn’t forgive his inattention so much, yet another thing about him that makes Yusaku feel guilty about Revolver; Ryoken is the reason he’s not failing this class. “You should pay attention to the half hour we have left. Pointers for the next project.”

Yusaku feels strangely hurt by the brushoff but keeps quiet about it. He has no right to ask anything from him when he refuses to give him a straight answer about having a date. He just… doesn’t want to get Ryoken involved in case he isn’t Revolver’s assistant, or even Revolver himself. There’s also his complicated feelings towards Revolver. It’s not love. It can’t be. He won’t allow it, but there’s this draw he has to him that burns him up on the inside and brings out his irrational side; Revolver makes him throw logic out of the window, and that isn’t good. Especially now that he might actually make moves against him and actively try to actually hurt him instead of keeping him out of his business.

He’s almost ashamed of how more often than not that asshole is in his thoughts, but he can’t help it. Their paths are way too intertwined for him to avoid him completely. He wasn’t supposed to get close to him quite like _this_ , though. But it’s too late to take it back, which does concern him at time.

Instead of paying attention like he’s told to, though, Yusaku spends the rest of the class vaguely wondering if Ryoken and Revolver would be up for a threesome. He decides Revolver wouldn’t like sharing him and leaves it at that for him. In Ryoken’s case, he seems so desireless sometimes that Yusaku doubts he even has the libido required or the interest for something like this, and it might be weird to introduce the person he most definitely doesn’t have a crush on to a vigilante just so he wouldn’t have to make a decision between them and get away with having two boyfriends.

Not that Yusaku wants a boyfriend. Or two. Nope. Absolutely not. Much less so if one of them is Revolver.

He should stop lying to himself about serious matters.

He ends up taking notes he doesn’t really understand because he missed the first twenty minutes of class and then some, but Ryoken just pushes his own towards him while shaking his head, finger-gunning at Yusaku’s head as if to tell him he’s dead unless he takes his help. Yusaku regrets taking an art elective out of all things. He did it to keep an eye on Dr. Kogami’s son, which is how he even met Ryoken, and he’s only know starting to realize this is all his own damn fault for not being able to keep duty separate from pleasure. Not that he’s even getting off with him, or Revolver, which only makes it even worse. With a sigh, Yusaku looks down at Ryoken’s fancy but otherwise understandable handwriting and mourns the death of good life decisions. It’s not like he’s ever had any, but he likes to think not killing the people he interrogates and brings to law counts.

By the end of class Yusaku feels like his mind is numb and decides he needs another nap. A _really_ long nap. But, he has two other classes that he actually cares a lot about and he can’t ditch them for a shuteye. He only came this early so he wouldn’t miss seeing Ryoken at least once this week, despite knowing he would have to face questions about the date invitation from last week. And now there’s an alien in his place, eating Doritos with Jin and giving him anxiety about being away from Ai.

What even is his life? He’s one-hundred percent sure it wasn’t nearly this chaotic five years ago.

“Fujiki?” Ryoken calls once he notices Yusaku lingering in his seat and not picking up his stuff, shooting him glances out of the corner of his eye. “Everything ok? You’re looking particularly miserable.”

Yusaku snorts and shakes his head, avoiding eye contact as much as he can. It’s hard; Ryoken’s eyes feel almost magnetic at times. “I’m fine, I’m just thinking about some things.”

“Alright,” Ryoken hesitates, tapping his fingers on his desk and frowning. “I won’t call you out on your lying but if it’s about that date I invited you on, it’s no big deal if you’re not into it—”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Yusaku finds himself interrupting, the words hurried and breathy. He almost bites his tongue in his haste to speak. “It’s not you at all, I’m just figuring out some personal things. I just… I don’t really have time. But it’s still not a no.”

 _So much for not leading him on,_ his brain provides, and he almost misses the whispers in the back of his mind to distract him from his own thoughts. Ugh.

Ryoken stares in passive silence for a couple of seconds as if he’s waiting for something, maybe some more elaboration on his part, and Yusaku tries to feel like he’s not lying, because he’s _not,_ not really, but there’s a weird feeling taking over him that just serves to makes him internally cringe at his words. He realizes with horror that it’s fear of rejection and almost face palms himself.

Ryoken blinks and smiles at him, his eyes boring into Yusaku’s very soul.

“I’ll be waiting, then,” he says, and then finally stands up and walks away, leaving him alone in the empty classroom. Yusaku stares at the spot between his shoulder blades with more longing that he should until he disappears out the door.

Once he’s sure Ryoken is out of earshot, Yusaku sighs so loudly he thinks his soul may have leaked out of his body, then slams his head down on his desk, wincing when he feels the pain and heard it crack but welcoming it nonetheless. He groans a bit to himself and takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

He doesn’t want to go to class.

 

* * *

 

By the time his classes are over Yusaku has a headache and a deep hatred of math. It’s not often that he’s unable to completely understand a math class in particular, but his concussion from that morning apparently did wonders for him today, even though he thought the nap took care of that. Still, he has things to do, like make sure Jin didn’t turn Ai into an alien version of a shut-in through snacks and video games.

Thankfully, that’s not the case. But he would have preferred that to opening the front door to find a vampire on the couch chugging down soda.

Instinct makes him block the door to keep it from escaping and immediately reach out for his Taser, but then Jin comes out of the kitchen looking nonchalant as ever and sits beside their vampire-looking surprise guest. It takes longer than it maybe should have for him to realize what’s going on.

“Is that…” he drifts off, refusing to accept it, but then the vampire turns around and grins excitedly, standing up from the couch in a hurry and walking towards him, its mouth opening around words that die down to a terrified whine when Yusaku points the Taser. “I swear, Ai, if this is you—”

“It is!” He says, raising his hands in defense, but Yusaku doesn’t put down the Taser. The sleeves of the dated-looking clothes he has on bounce, making Yusaku even more eager to use the Taser. He has way too much of a headache to deal with this. “I can explain!”

Yusaku takes one look at Jin, who’s just watching them with curiosity while eating snacks, and gets the urge to just give up and go to bed. He sighs instead. “You can _shape-shift_?”

“He liked a character on TV and suddenly he was there. Almost crushed me,” Jin speaks up, shrugging like this is just another normal say for him. The worse thing is that he can’t blame him for that; this is probably _not_ the weirdest thing that has happened to him; the Hanoi Project probably takes that award. “It was neat.”

Yusaku looks at Ai’s vampire lord outfit and then at his face, squinting and detailing the long eyelashes, the sharp cheekbones and the jawline that could probably cut you if you fell on it. “That’s not how the characters’ face looks.”

Ai shoots him a sheepish smile that looks a bit too handsome and then points at the Taser. “I took some outside inspiration! Could you please put that down?”

Yusaku puts down the Taser, stuffing it back in his bag. Not because he was told to, but because he doesn’t want to know how a shape-shifting alien would react to electricity. Fuck, he really just wants to go to bed. He doesn’t want to deal with this. Why does he have things to do? It’s incredibly not fair.

Footsteps echo from the stairs behind him and Takeru sets his hands on his shoulders with a sigh leaning on him until Yusaku has to tense his body to keep himself from being dragged to the ground. “Buddy, you’re blocking the entrance—”

His words stop with some spluttering when he notices Ai the Vampire Lord and Jin tilting the snack bag over his mouth to get the leftovers.

“Are we being attacked?” He asks, bewildered. Yusaku just shrugs and steps closer to Ai, looking at him closely. He doesn’t look fake at all, which is to be expected. He’s come across shape-shifters before, but they weren’t aliens as far as he was aware.

The mystery of why the hell Den City is such a center of mutant activity tugs at his thought process again, but he has to consider his priorities. He’s not the only one looking into the city’s anomalies; Go Onizuka has been at it for almost as long as the case as existed, and he knows Blue Angel has a connection to it somehow— she was the first powerful mutant to show up after Go. She keeps the details from them, but Yusaku has his own leads that both of them have looked over. He doesn’t have the heart to tell them they’re both biased for different reasons, but they actually do help because they know Playmaker is better at getting worthwhile information than they are.

The Knights of Hanoi create artificial mutants, subjects born out of endless hours, days, months, perhaps even years of experimentation, taking little pieces of what’s probably the remnants of Ignis DNA they have lying around for it or using another means if Dr. Kogami’s experimentation was completely destroyed after his death. Yet he’s come across mutants that have confessed to being born with their abilities, things that he has difficulty confirming because usually there’s barely any medical record of those individuals.

The cases might be correlated, but there were clearly several parties causing things at once. It could just be human evolution caused by some sort of catalyst, but Yusaku would have to look deeper into that theory and find the time to investigate it. He knows there was an event in New Domino City a couple decades back that might explain it, but it’s too far-fetched.

He prefers to focus on the now.

“Turn back, Ai” Yusaku steps forwards, almost making Takeru fall off from the sudden unbalance. Ai pouts. “We have important things to do.”

“Can’t we have dinner first? Or wait for Kusanagi-san?” Takeru whines, so Yusaku thinks about it really hard. “I don’t look forwards to being mind-probed...”

“No,” he says, then takes another steps towards Ai, who takes one backwards and almost falls off after stepping on his cape. “Are you planning on keeping that shape? I don’t approve.”

“I don’t know,” Ai shrugs, shooting him a smug smile that looks somewhat familiar and gesturing wildly with the cape, spinning around until he’s wrapped himself around it. “I like being tall!”

Yusaku frowns, opens his mouth, and then gets rudely interrupting by the building _shaking._ It takes them all by surprise, of course, because buildings don’t shake; Takeru falls on his ass and drags Yusaku down to his knees with him while Jin hides under the table. Ai just stares in confusion for a few seconds, trying to keep himself on his feet, but eventually falls over as well thanks to the cape. Yusaku hears things breaking all over the apartment, and the sounds of people screaming bloody murder outside. He recognizes it as an earthquake, of course, but it’s just _odd._ Den City doesn’t get earthquakes. It just doesn’t happen. Den City is relatively peaceful when it comes to natural disasters – other types of disasters, not so much – and they haven’t had one ever since the incident that created the New Domino City, and even that was just a side effect of it and _mild_ , in comparison to some of the things that happened in other cities.

As suddenly as it began, the earthquake stopped.

Yusaku blinks, processing his senses as carefully as he can: the people screaming coming from the open door to the stairwell, the car alarms, the strange ringing, loud whispering in his ears that’s incredibly distracting and going up on volume with every second, how Jin is covering his ears under the coffee table and mumbling for something to stop, the way Ai is staring at the ground with empty eyes, how Takeru struggles to stand up, his beating heart.

This isn’t normal.

Then another earthquake starts.

 

* * *

 

Technically, the earthquake isn’t Ryoken’s fault.

In his defense, neither of them could have anticipated that hiking into the mountain that looks off to Stardust Road to look for the Ignis sleeping under it without much of a contingency plan was perhaps not a good idea. He thought everything was going well— they drove around the mountain from the mansion, found a good parking spot once they reached the hiking path, then Ryoken used his own memory and Spectre as a map to find the Ignis.

And they did, which is why Ryoken counted this as a victory so soon. Of all the Ignis, the one that was linked to Spectre was the hardest to find; it was in a very deep underground cave with an entrance so easy to miss that it seemed fabricated – that’s because it was, mostly, but nature helped throughout the years – and required hours of hiking. He was planning on going right to it after his encounter with Playmaker that morning but, well.

He’s weak for teasing Fujiki Yusaku out of his cold exterior, no matter what name he’s using.

“That’s quite irresponsible, Ryoken-sama,” Spectre had said to him when he announced he was going to his only class that afternoon, wearing a smirk and a raised eyebrow as weapons. Ryoken had winced, because of course Spectre was going to call him out on his questionable decisions. “I hope you’re not lingering this time? You wouldn’t want to pressure Playmaker into a date after such a blank response last week—”

“I regret not paying you every day of my life,” Ryoken answered, scowling at him but knowing he was right, as always. “Maybe you would actually shut up if you had a reason to respect me.”

“It’s never late to try!” Was Spectre’s answer, to which Ryoken could only glare. He hates him sometimes, even though he would definitely be dead in a ditch somewhere if it wasn’t for him. They never mean it because of that; their friendship runs deeper than blood and they have a quiet understanding of the other that sometimes amazes him. The teasing is just a way to cope, to escape the weight that drags Ryoken down every day. Still, Spectre had a point, the Ignis are far more important than Playmaker and always have been. Ryoken just… forgets.

He knows it’s not a good justification, but it feels like that when his days are reduced to countless hours of research, coming up with contingency plans for the previous contingency plans, training, brooding and taking out his feelings on whatever thug he can get his hands on. Playmaker is someone that just manages to pull him out of the loop, be it for a few seconds or minutes and sometimes hours – so many rooftops in the early mornings – but never days. He allowed Fujiki Yusaku to get close to him just to have a little bit more of that for a set time, but he almost came to regret it when he had to pretend ignorance at whatever was troubling him or what he was actually doing, like today. Not like Ryoken can complain out loud; he brought this upon himself and screwed himself even further when he _asked him on a date._

He has no defensive argument about that. At all. It just happened and served to make himself jealous… of himself. He’s not proud of it. He was just curious which of them he liked more; his truthful tortured asshole personality or his fake innocent civilian persona. He didn’t expect him to be into _both._

The earthquake, though. That, he does have a good excuse for, and it is that Spectre totally fucked over the _‘get it down softly’_ part of the plan. He can admit it was an accident; the Ignis’s cocoon had been precariously perching on the edge of a cliff inside the cave that looked off to a water body that Ryoken knew connected to the one where another of the Ignis rested; even if the relation ran down to the beach, it’s still there. Ryoken didn’t set the cocoon down in that exact place when he left the Ignis to grow, but he didn’t anticipate it would become so big and… sticky.

Spectre was supposed to move the whole area of earth around cocoon so they could move it safely and take it back to the mansion without waking it – Ryoken rented a van _just_ to do this – but it only took them thinking the foil under them was stable enough to step closer, Spectre to trip and his balance to be thrown off for everything to go downhill really quickly.

At first, the Ignis cocoon didn’t look to be shaken by the fact that it was very aggressively dumped onto the ground and almost off the edge of the cliff, but then it started to morph with loud, wet sounds that managed to send shivers down his spine, the light coming from it blinking in and out with increasing, worrying speed until it became the size of his fist, round and sleek. Spectre watches in fascinated silence, and Ryoken hears the soft buzzing, the crackle of what sounds like the whisper of a voice reaching out before it goes quiet, cuts off and starts again like static. Spectre must hear it continuously though, just as he heard the other Ignis waking up and just as Miyu claimed she did when she cornered him after his class was over.

The buzzing stops just as the Ignis obtains its humanoid shape; it looks different from the one Playmaker obtained, which is to be expected. Ryoken was careful when he hid them after the lab was dismantled, and he knew that the differences in environment would affect each of them differently and come to reflect on their experimentation partners; the kids wouldn’t even notice the changes despite the magnitude of them until the Ignis were completely acclimated to their new natural life conditions. He remembers watching Spectre for weeks afterwards until finally the garden went insane overnight, and he has to admit his choice for each place wasn’t perhaps ideal for children to suddenly develop abilities around, but back then it was more important for them to disappear than for the subjects to be safe.

That of course was an ill-fated decision; the folder full of every piece of public and private information available about the accident involving the only of the subjects that met an unfortunate end because of it proves it. Spectre tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault and that he couldn’t have known it would end like that but—

It doesn’t matter. He can’t change the past.

The Ignis looks at them, tiny blue eyes measuring them up, and Spectre and Ryoken take a simultaneous step forwards. It takes one back until it’s pressed against the walls of the cave, a blank expression meeting their quiet anticipation at what it might do. It wasn’t part of the plan for the Ignis to wake up since it would be harder for them to take it back to the mansion like that, but now they just had to improvise. Ryoken believes he’s decent at improvising, but it doesn’t mean that he enjoys it.

“Hello,” he says, trying to be casual, but it’s hard when you’re very obviously loaded with weapons. He tries to hide the hand that’s holding the alien dagger behind his back, moving closer to Spectre to block the Ignis’ view. Maybe he should have listened to Spectre and left it behind. It just stares back and forth between the two of them, blinking; Ryoken tries not to feel uneasy. “Do you know who we are?”

Static crackles in Ryoken’s brain, loud and distracting, but he shows no outward reaction. Spectre flinches, which means the Ignis is clearly doing _something,_ but he just lets it happen in tense silence. Finally, it speaks, a gravelly voice echoing in Ryoken’s brain and ears, faint and slightly shaky. He knows it’s _him_ that’s messing with the audio quality, though, and focuses on what’s coming in through his ears.

“You’re my kin, almost,” it says the words looking at Spectre first, eyes lingering for a few seconds and then switching to Ryoken. There’s something about that look that sends shivers down his spine, like it _knows_. He wouldn’t be surprised. “But you… aren’t and yet are?”

Ryoken wants to tell it to get out of his head, but it’s best to be gentle here. To detain the Ignis in a place out of Hanoi’s reach is his responsibility and principal goal right now; he would try to destroy them if he wasn’t sure that would have serious repercussions on the experimentation partners. He still doesn’t know what happened to the Ignis of the kid that passed away, or the state of the one that corresponds to Kusanagi Jin, but he has… ideas. He isn’t eager to find those Ignis in particular.

“It’s complicated,” Ryoken nods, and then gestures towards Spectre, briefly making eye contact with him before looking back at the Ignis. “You should be able to understand him better.”

The Ignis nods, and curiosity flashes across its face, its expression lifting up slightly. “I do. He gave me life. I’d like to thank you for that.”

Ryoken takes a deep breath and watches Spectre struggle to come up with an answer. This is why he didn’t want the Ignis to wake up, but he knew this was inevitable. Just like Playmaker, Spectre is going to be drawn to his partner and immediately form a bond he can only hope to begin to comprehend. His efforts to keep them apart come from a perhaps sick need to keep people that have suffered at the hands of his father away from the main game, but he’s learned over the last few years that he can’t avoid that. He could when he and Spectre were just kids on a lab and he had more leverage over what may have come to happen to him, but now it’s more complicated; he never tried to actively keep Spectre from the truth, because he figured out that was impossible, but Playmaker didn’t have to get so deeply involved for things to work out. Ryoken’s been painstakingly planning this for years, and his interference has already messed up things for him, made him throw who knows how many safety measures out of the window.

Still, he looks at Spectre going soft and almost wants to pull him away. It’s an odd feeling. He’s never had to worry about him when it came to the Ignis before.

“There’s no need to thank me,” Spectre speaks up, his voice far more gentle than Ryoken’s heard in years, and he feels the fight that he showed towards Playmaker drain out of him with a sigh. He almost regretted that now, hours later, because he really should have known Playmaker wouldn’t listen and avoided an overreaction, but it’s far too late to dwell on it. He makes up for it now, in his mind, by letting Spectre have this, even if it’s just for a few minutes. “I was only a little helper.”

“That’s an oversimplification of your role,” the Ignis brings a hand up to its chin, orange skin making a wet sound at the contact. Ryoken almost feels tempted to take a sample out of the remnants of the cocoon just out of simple curiosity, but he squashes down the thought. He doesn’t want to use the lab for any of that, not ever. “Though this is confusing. I was supposed to go looking for you, not the other way around. We have developed enough to do so by ourselves. Are the others awake as well?”

Ryoken exchanges a look with Spectre. “Number six woke up earlier today.”

The Ignis blinks up at them, wary, so Spectre takes a step forwards, kneeling over it and offering his hand. The Ignis stares for way too long to not be awkward, apparently confused, and Ryoken doesn’t know if this is how the other Ignis behaved towards Playmaker of if this is just a particular case. It didn’t seem to be quite as socially awkward as this one, though, but that could be related to its unique development conditions.

“Number six…” the Ignis drifts off, still staring, and then looks right at Ryoken, bluntly ignoring Spectre’s offered hand. Ryoken clenches his fist tight around the knife, trying not to appear tense. He knows which question is next. “Number six should be with you. Where are they?”

“With its other partner,” Ryoken is glad he’s not lying, because the Ignis would probably be able to tell. Spectre clears his throat, trying to dispel some of the tension his words created, so he shrugs at the Ignis, trying to appear nonchalant. “We’re here to retrieve you—”

“—and take you home with us,” Spectre interrupts, talking over Ryoken’s words. He turns to look at him with a pointed look, so Ryoken bites his tongue. Spectre is absolutely right; he should definitively stop talking like he’s a secret government agent or some shit like that. It won’t do them any favors. He should stop talking, period. Spectre smiles at the Ignis, trying to appear friendly, but it’s just kind of creepy. “We can’t have you going around alone. It’s a big world out there with people that would try to hurt you, so we figured it was best to get to you directly instead of waiting.”

“That’s not how things are supposed to happen,” the Ignis looks down at its hands, conflicted, but then shrugs. “But I trust you. Not so much the doctor’s son, but I’m sure that if you are with him he must have no ill intentions.”

Ryoken swallows at the mention of his parentage and decides that they’ve lost enough time. The sun is already setting, and part of his goal for today was to confirm the location of the second closest Ignis for the sake of making sure Hanoi wasn’t already moving to get them. They should have no way of telling beyond eyewitnesses and a radar Ryoken made sure to fuck up a long time ago, but there’s no way to tell if they don’t have other sources of information. He doesn’t know exactly how deep their web of spies is, but knowing it exists is already a blood-chilling thought. They can’t get distracted.

“We need to leave now, then,” he says, trying to makes the words sound like a suggestion for the sake of not making the Ignis suspicious. Something about how quiet it is and how it keeps asking questions tells him it’s too late for that. “It’s going to get dark and—”

“Where are we going?”

Ryoken clicks his tongue at the interruption and Spectre finally retreats his hand and stands up, probably being just as eager as he is about getting this over with and for the Ignis to stop asking questions. They both haven’t forgotten about the fact that they’re literally in the Ignis’ element.

“Somewhere safe,” Spectre is clearly trying to be reassuring, but the Ignis has none of it, crossing its arms and frowning. Spectre seems to recoil a little bit at it, not pleased at all, but he hides it behind a smile that looks a little too cheerful. “Nothing bad is going to happen—”

“I may have been born just now, but I’m not stupid,” the Ignis claims, and Ryoken immediately takes a step forwards, trying to block its way to the entrance in case it tries to escape. The Ignis stares right at Ryoken, looking like it is getting riled up with every word that comes out of its mouth. “I know what a kidnapping looks like. The reasons for human behavior might be a mystery, but the patterns are recognizable! Besides, what would _my_ partner be doing with the doctor’s son? Why isn’t number six here as well? Why not wait for me to get out by myself? And _why_ are you carrying a weapon?”

Ryoken realizes a bit too late that he’s been holding the knife in a defensive stand from the second the Ignis started to raise its voice. He blinks at Spectre, who just shrugs and gestures at the Ignis as if to say _‘this_ is _technically a kidnapping’_ , so Ryoken just rolls his eyes and sighs.

“Look, there are several things going on that you wouldn’t understand—”

“You could try!”

“I _am,_ ” Ryoken snaps, which makes Spectre set a hand on his shoulder. He takes the cue, taking a deep breath to calm down and not lash out at the Ignis. They really can’t afford for it to escape. “It would be best for you and for a lot of people if you just came with us quietly. We are just going to keep you safe until it all blows over. We’re even going to get the rest of your kin eventually—”

“Are the other partners working with you?” The Ignis interrupts, _again_ , and Ryoken suddenly feels exhausted. He keeps his mouth shut, thinking about how to phrase this is a way that won’t make it panic, but Spectre takes the task from him, looking very much done with the miscommunication.

“No, they aren’t, but—”

“I don’t trust him,” the Ignis points at Ryoken, eyes narrowing, and he barely keeps himself from bristling in offense, taking a step forwards and being stopped only by Spectre’s hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to calm down. His mind crackles with static again, and this time he flinches, a hand flying up to rest against his temple. The Ignis doesn’t back down from its aggressive stance. “He’s strange. I don’t understand what was done to him, and I don’t like this, this— intervention. This isn’t how things are supposed to go.”

Spectre takes his hand off Ryoken to rise both of them up as if to try to get the Ignis to calm down, his expression carefully calm, “I understand you’re confused, but I promise we have no ill intentions towards you, and I recommend you go with us so I can explain things better—”

“And if I don’t?”

Ryoken clenches his jaw, his grip on the dagger tightening until the leather of the handle makes a warning sound that it’s about to break. He can’t hurt the Ignis, much less murder it, especially since he doesn’t know what could happen to Spectre if he did, but he can’t let it get away. He’s waited so long for this hunt to start, for the beginning of the end of this dull endless existence, for destiny to catch up to him finally— and he won’t let it get messed up by one of them getting snatched from under his nose and another one refusing to cooperate.

He remembers now why he let Playmaker punch him.

“You have no choice,” his voice is sharp, rough, clearly strained with the effort to keep his temper down. The Ignis is so small he’s almost tempted to try and step on its legs to keep it from running away. That probably wouldn’t end well, though, so intimidation tactics were his only option here. “It’s us or Hanoi, and you don’t want to try your luck with them by yourself.”

“Hanoi? Isn’t that the name of the doctor’s project?” The Ignis’ eyes go wide, and then they’re narrowing down again, the on and off of static inside Ryoken’s brain going crazy. Spectre, to his side, presses a hand to his own temple, making dread pool on Ryoken’s stomach. The Ignis is letting emotion get the best of it and it’s resulting on an overload of feedback— he’s surprised that number six didn’t go through this, but at the same time he shouldn’t be. “Is the doctor after us?”

Number six is a variable in itself, an abnormality among its own kin, so who knows what it might be capable of if the psychic strain is this strong in this one. Ryoken can’t linger much on that thought, though. He has to deal with the Ignis at hand first.

“Forget the doctor,” Ryoken sets a hand on Spectre, trying not to lean on him for support. His ears are starting to ring, which is dangerous. It’s only a matter of time before the psychic energy gets picked up by the other experimentation subjects, and then by the radars. “Things have changed since you were all put in hibernation. The doctor is—”

“I’m leaving!” The Ignis glues itself to the cave’s walls again, hands splayed over it until it’s making an unconscious T-pose. Ryoken feels bitter anger mixed with panic rising in his throat like bile and struggles to swallow it down even as the cave starts to shake and the static inside his head grows louder, giving him an instantaneous headache that will probably linger for days. “Back off! I need to make sure the others are okay! Humans are not supposed to come looking for us!”

“If you could just—”

Ryoken gets interrupted by Spectre, who pushes him out of the way of the pieces of stone and dirt falling from the roof of the cave. It’s all shaking now, the cliff they’re standing on threatening to shatter and pull them to their probably deaths any second now. He knows the cave doesn’t have much time left; its integrity is clearly diminishing with every passing second. It’s a miracle it isn’t already falling in on itself, but the speed of the destruction grows with the volume of the static in his brain. He’s numb to most of it, an unfortunate side effect he’s always had issues dealing with, but Spectre’s hands on his shoulders are grounding and keep him still as the Ignis melts into the foil underneath their feet, effectively getting away. The shaking stops, leaving only the ringing in his brain and Spectre’s voice trying to bring him back from a psychic overload.

“Ryoken-sama,” Spectre calls, trying to get Ryoken to look at him, but his mind is fixated on the spot where the Ignis disappeared. He tries to look away, but all he can think about is how he failed again and what he’ll have to do to make up for it later. Spectre’s grip on his shoulders tightens until Ryoken is forced to make eye contact, and he knows with only that desperate, patient look that they can’t give up just yet.

The shaking starts again, stronger than before, and Ryoken knows this is going to be picked up by just about everyone. He’s going to be surprised if Hanoi isn’t already climbing the mountain.

“We can’t let it escape,” he hears himself saying, watches Spectre nod firmly. “We need to go after it—”

“It’s too dangerous for you in here, Ryoken-sama—”

Ryoken scoffs incredulously. “Since when can rocks hurt me?”

Spectre tolls his eyes. “We can’t have you be buried here, can we? Starvation is, quite unfortunately, a viable way of killing you. So is lack of oxygen. Let me handle this. The Ignis will listen to me, but I don’t think your face will be welcome.”

Ryoken almost asks what’s wrong with his face, but he doesn’t have a chance because he’s being turned around towards the way they came and pushed a couple of steps forwards. He turns around just in time to see Spectre create a wall of rocks between them with a sharp, quick gesture of his hands, which is as much of a _‘fuck off’_ as he will get right now. He tells himself Spectre will be alright, but as he retraces their path and comes back out to the surface there’s a restlessness that he can’t get rid of. It doesn’t take him long to realize the whole mountain is shaking and that the earthquake is spreading towards the city, which means the Ignis went down several levels into the ground.

He knows Spectre will be able to follow it and that he won’t be hurt, but anxiety fills his heart. He can’t just let him take the brunt of the fight; this was supposed to be a simple retrieval mission, not to be the cause of a disaster. The least he can do is get into town and make sure no lives are lost because of the earthquake; Den City is known for having a distinct lack of natural disasters, which means there isn’t really a set culture on how to handle them among the citizens.

With that objective in mind, Ryoken starts the walk down the mountain, his steps confident but for the rare stumbling thanks to the earthquake. It’s a soft one, even if it is encompassing the whole area of Den City, but that doesn’t make it any less dangerous. The longer it goes on, the more intense it gets, but at least the psychic strain isn’t quite as strong this far away from the Ignis.

There are short moments in which the earthquake stops for a few seconds before it continues; he can already imagine the headlines for the next morning, terrified reporters making the general public remember the events of old Domino that lead to the complete reconstruction of the city, but he can’t really linger on that thought— as soon as Ryoken gets back on the hiking path, he realizes that despite the fact that the sun has completely set and the night has taken over, the mountain is distinctly bright thanks to the light coming from several flashlights from below where he’s standing.

He stays still, muscles tensing, and lets himself be relieved by the fact that there were no incriminating identifiers of either him or Spectre on the van. He knows without a doubt that the only people that can be on the mountain apart from him and Spectre are Hanoi, because otherwise that would imply several civilians got unlucky. He would prefer that a million times over, but civilians would be screaming. The people climbing are talking quietly; if Ryoken pays attention he can tell they’re communicating through ear pieces, and a terror so old and familiar makes his blood freeze over and his breath stop before he’s taking quiet steps back, not the way he came but still too close to it.

Ryoken kneels, grabs a rock, and throws it with all his strength as far as he can from the entrance to the cave. He hears it land an almost impossibly long distance away, and all the flashlights turn towards it, people barking instructions before the earthquake starts again.

He makes sure they aren’t paying attention in his direction before he’s grabbing his guns and hiding them under bushes, all while he walks on the opposite direction that Hanoi are heading to. It’s hard to do it while the earthquake goes on, but he managed and he absolutely _has_ to do it. He doesn’t have his mask with him and he can’t be seen with fire arms— he does have a license to carry them, but that doesn’t mean he can walk around with them.

He can’t be seen by anyone. That would be too much of an obvious clue.

Ryoken’s goal is to meet Hanoi on the other side of the mountain and keep distracting them to buy Spectre some time, but he has to admit he’s trusting a bit too much on a pre-established rule. It might be a bit of an asshole move to hope the rule rings true, because he just wants it to have more bait for Hanoi to be busy with, but it’s a _necessary_ jackass wish.

After all, where Hanoi goes, Playmaker follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw not even Spectre can support Ryoken's decisions.


	5. recognition (part one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone that might have the patience to bear with me! I know, it's been like three months. I'm really sorry about that but I am a certified mess, alright? I struggle to write this AU a lot because I want it to be as perfect as humanly possible. No detail is too small for me, so I insist I am really sorry about the wait. You have no idea how much the fact that I hadn't updated haunted me. So, if any of you are willing to stand my mess... thank you for sticking around.
> 
> So, a few changes. I decided to make the chapters shorter from now on (aka I just sliced my usual chapter length in half) for both my convenience and your convenience. Why? Shorter means that if you don't remember, then you don't have to reread 10k words or so to continue. It also makes me feel less like a mess when I'm writing and it allows me to flesh out scenes I feel would be too short if I did 10k for one chapter. Get it? I hope you do. 
> 
> I'll try to not disappear/ghost this fic for like three months again. Know that if I don't update in a while I'm either busy, having writer's block, or just writing ahead to make more updates possibly more often. I really really love this au, it's an unexpected baby, and so far I wouldn't change anything about it except my update schedule. As you can see, this is a part one chapter, and that's because this is kind of an "arc" in the story, because there will be at least three chapters, counting this one, coming out of this section. Lots of stuff happens in this mountain y'all.
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you enjoy. Thank you.

Hanoi brought a fucking excavator with them. Ryoken has absolutely no idea what they plan to do with this exactly, but it does make him uncomfortable and unreasonably angry because this is  _not_  an efficient way to work on stealing an overpowered alien being. He doesn't even know where they got this equipment from since he knows what kind of tools they have in stock like the palm of his hand, so they probably stole it from somewhere, which doesn’t make it any better. They are preparing to dig into the ground in between the earthquakes, at least two dozen minions moving around the area getting machines and all types of digging tools ready, most of them not having the faintest idea on how to use them properly.

Incompetence at its finest.

He’s perched upon a tree because it’s easier to follow their trail that way. The few members he came across earlier were clearly looking for something, but by the time Ryoken walked around the hiking path they had already retreated back to this very-hard-to-ignore camp area with an energy plant and portable lights and an actual  _tents_. They seemed to be mostly for the equipment they were using, but there were people trickling in and out of the biggest one like they were receiving orders. There’s clearly a leader in all of this, but whoever that is has not dared to step out yet. Ryoken feared the worst about their identity for more than a few minutes, crossing his fingers that it wasn’t anyone that might have a personal vendetta against him – nevermind there's plenty of them that do – but either way, he needs to find a way to stop this or at least set back their work.

Despite the fact that he trusts Playmaker to show up, Ryoken should try to mess up some things anyway, if only out of principle. Spectre is smart enough to know not to contact him until he’s back at the mansion, and even then Ryoken might not answer any call or even a message until he’s sure Hanoi won’t get too close to Ignis— to any of them, really. He’s glad he didn’t bring Miyu along after all, or it would have been disastrous. 

Ryoken waits until two of the knights keeping watch in this little corner of the camp get distracted before he’s grabbing one of them in a chokehold so strong that he feels their neck crack, then he knocks out the other one with a well-placed fist to their nose, blood covering his knuckles.

He shakes his head to himself in mild disappointment as he hides their bodies in the bushes; Hanoi may be growing in number, but the strength of their forces has been diminishing. This would have never happened under his command, which is all the proof he needs that they don’t have a competent leader, or at least not one that cares about testing the ability of new members before giving them a mask and putting them to work anymore. He wouldn't have allowed this infiltration to happen; measures would be put in place to guarantee that no detail escaped any of them  _or else_ — but it doesn't really matter anymore.

His days in charge are long over, after all, and right now he needs to focus on stealing the cloak out of one of them and hiding behind their mask to be able to mess up the digging equipment. He’s barely halfway through suiting up when suddenly a whistle blows and a guy screams while running up to the main tent and parting the entrance, speaking up and sounding panicked.

“Playmaker is halfway up the mountain!”

_Well, fuck,_ Ryoken thinks, shaking his head and hurriedly bringing the cloak down over his hair,  _he couldn’t wait five more minutes, could he?_

The news does send Hanoi's forces into a panic, though; suddenly everyone is running around taking orders and pulling out weapons, preparing for an assault as if they’re going to war against one tired college student with superpowers. The lack of order is both hilarious and frustrating yet incredibly convenient, because he manages to steal the excavator’s keys, break a few shovels and mess up a few diggers, then to retreat back to his hiding place without alerting anyone. Seeing as they’ll be pretty busy with the sleep-deprived menace, Ryoken starts making his way back to the cave entrance— only to realize there are more Hanoi members hiking up the mountain and he’s essentially surrounded. 

He climbs a tree again. It's certainly not the most dignified response, but he can’t be seen by anyone or that would be the end of several years of work and planning behind the scenes and paying shady sources and ignoring phone calls and text messages from the one family member that cares about him, not to mention the end of his life but— well, even if that happens there’s going to be Spectre and Playmaker around, though he would rather do what he has been planning to do himself instead of letting it to others.

So, Ryoken watches in silence how chaos keeps breeding among their ranks, but with every minute that passes, he gets more and more concerned about Spectre’s progress. Their less than ideal approach to the situation guaranteed that the Ignis would not be friendly and accept a nice talk with Spectre over metaphorical tea; if that was the case, Ryoken wouldn’t be sitting on a tree and holding on to it for dear life to avoid falling off with every shake that rattles the ground. He just had to go and open his damn mouth and screw up everything, didn't he?

This wouldn’t be so hard if Hanoi wasn’t getting its hands all over this business again like they have any right. He had foolishly hoped that they would lose interest in the Ignis thanks to the new developments they’ve made since with their mutant formulas and their viruses, but that’s clearly not the case at all. Instead, they seem to be all too eager to recover what they think it's theirs but will never obtain if Ryoken gets his way.

Ryoken keeps an ear hour for any sounds of people approaching his hiding place, and takes a look downwards when he notices quick light footsteps and then a following rustling, a hushed voice mumbling  _'now',_ and he barely has time to brace himself before the ground below him is suddenly shaking with the impact of a grenade.

* * *

Yusaku is not a big fan of stealing. He’s done it before and would do it again, but only in extreme circumstances; he just doesn’t like to take stuff people worked hard to get from them. Yet he barely hesitates before stopping a civilian by standing in the middle of the road to take his bike and drive it right into a huge shadow, Soulburner gleefully screaming behind him and holding onto him for dear life as he slammed the gas.

As always, Playmaker was quick to respond to danger once he figured out that there was nothing natural about the earthquakes in the city. It was quite obvious, really, but this could easily be misinterpreted by everyone. After the initial shockwave, Ai turned back to his original form and held onto him with worried eyes, claiming there was something wrong, and they all could feel tell it was true in their guts, something in the back of their minds  _pulling_ like he's never felt before.

Jin was the most affected out of the four of them, refusing to stand up from under the table he hid under when the earthquake started. Shoichi arrived just in time to take care of him and get him somewhere safe, probably to a safe room downtown, so Soulburner and Playmaker are alone in this, with no backup because Blue Angel is most certainly going to get called for civilian rescue, and Onizuka is probably already on his way to do the same.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out Hanoi is involved. Only they have the means to cause such wreck without anyone noticing it beforehand, but Yusaku is admittedly a bit confused— two attacks on the same day isn't how they usually operate. Hanoi prefers to bring all guns out in symphony in hopes of overwhelming any opposition to their attempts to experiment on the whole city population or just cause general chaos and disarray they could benefit from, so this felt like an odd move from their part, like they didn't even realize what they were doing.

Soulburner even points this out as they ride there, the earthquakes barely making their path any less smooth than it normally would be thanks to Playmaker making the most out of his abilities and the quickly approaching night time. He can tell it’s a bit dizzyingly for Soulburner after the fourth massive jump, and even he’s starting to get queasy at how fast they're moving, but it's their only way to travel without being unfashionably late to the party. He’s still tremendously exhausted from this morning, which is another point in his favor for his conjecture that there might be something other than Hanoi at play.

Something like the Ignis.

He still hasn’t been able to properly sit down and process the day, but it feels like it’s been months already since he found Ai instead of just a few hours. Things suddenly seem to be moving simultaneously way too fast and way too slow, time becoming a simple illusion as he keeps taking in new information, and he can’t decide which one he dislikes the most. All he knows is that he needs to get to the mountain, figure out what’s happening, and deal with it as soon as possible, which is honestly his usual way of dealing with most unexpected twists.

When he lands on the hiking path, the impact of the bike against the ground making them bounce on the seat, but a quick look around tells them they're alone, and they stand up with the objective of looking around more closely. There's no noticeable change to the immediate environment of it from what he can tell at first sight, if counting out the obvious evidence that there was a car here not that long ago, maybe several.

Playmaker shoots a look at Soulburner and decides that they should split up, pointing towards the wheel tracks over the hiking path and the fresh footprints.

“We’re late to the party,” Playmaker says, then squints up the trees to his left. To his right, there’s only the cliff-side and a view of the ocean in which sometimes Stardust Road appears, and the place would appear deserted to anyone that didn’t have senses quite as sharp as them. Soulburner turns towards the end of the hiking path, humming in agreement. “It’s probably Hanoi, despite this not being their MO. Split?”

“I go up the path, you go through the trees?” Soulburner asks, already taking a few steps forwards up the path. “I can see a parked van up there. Looks suspicious.”

Playmaker opens his mouth to agree, but Ai beats him to it by slapping one of his tiny hands on his shoulder. “Hey, Playmaker, do you hear that?”

Playmaker pauses, tilts his head, and then gets interrupted by the mountain shaking. Soulburner trips but otherwise stands his ground, while Playmaker downright kneels to avoid the inconvenience. In here, the shaking feels even stronger, like it's coming from the very core of the mountain, which means this is indeed the place of origin of the earthquakes as if that wasn’t already obvious. He can't even begin to imagine the collapses the earthquakes will cause if every single one of them keeps rebounding like they are right now. Playmaker exchanges a grim look with Soulburner once it’s over, feeling a little bit like he’s been shaking himself, his limbs tingling from having been so close to the ground and holding onto it to not lose his balance, as well from the pulling feeling in his gut. Not for the first time today, Playmaker feels like finding Ai quick-started something bigger than he was expecting.

“This will complicate things,” Playmaker licks his lips, frowning, and meets Soulburner's eyes, his mind working a mile a minute. “We’ll stick with your plan. It’s dangerous for you to be in a forest area anyways.”

“If you need help, I’ll come running,” Soulburner pats his shoulder, giving him a thumbs-up, and turns to run up the hiking path, leaving Playmaker alone with Ai with little more than a wave and a finger tapping against his ear, where his earpiece is. "Good luck!"

Once he's gone, Playmaker turns his attention back to Ai.

“What is it that you’re hearing?” He asks, turning his head towards his right shoulder, where the Ignis is comfortably sitting down, legs crossed. His head is tilted, and he’s looking strangely serious, like he also has a bad feeling about this. He was quiet during the ride here, so Playmaker wouldn’t be surprised if there were things at work that his senses could not discern.

“Just listen closely,” Ai presses a hand against his cheek, the texture still foreign, and the touch sends a shiver down Playmaker’s spine. “Here, a sneak peek. Don’t ever say I’m not helpful!”

Then his hearing seemingly seems to disappear, becoming a big void of nothing for a few alarming seconds— and suddenly there are voices and footsteps, so close Playmaker instinctively turns in their direction, nerves alert. He hears machinery, the sounds of the earth being moved with equipment, as well as really quiet, almost inaudible echoes of hushed, harsh voices, probably from whoever is in charge today.

Then Ai takes his hand off his face and his sense of hearing comes back as it is, above average but definitely lacking the wide range Ai apparently has. He feels the need to blink like it was his sight that was interfered with, but a few seconds later Playmaker feels ready to continue. He’s not even going to question what just happened; aliens are aliens and they supposedly have a connection of sorts, so things like this are plausible. He’s got no time to worry about it anyways.

He grabs the bike and sits on the seat, turning the engine back up. “It is Hanoi.”

Ai hums in agreement, “So now what?"

Playmaker pauses, runs a hand through his hair and then shrugs. “We’re gonna punch all of them until we find the one in charge, maybe get more details on the way. Onizuka managed to catch the originators from this morning’s attack, but either they lost it or that was just a screen to set up whatever they want to do right now. They’re digging.”

“Oh! Can I help? Don’t get me wrong, humans look like they taste nasty, but—”

“No, you’re going to be quiet,” Playmaker slowly rides the bike down the hiking path, looking for a good spot to slam the pedal from so he can get a good impulse up the trees. There’s no way he’s going to be able to give this vehicle back after all he’s going to put it through. “Revolver said Hanoi is after you too, which means they won’t aim to kill but to capture. They’ll surely want me, too, but at least I already know what I’m dealing with. You only come out if I say so.”

“Party bummer,” Ai mumbles, and then Playmaker stops, slams the gas, and successfully manages enough momentum to drive over the borders of the hiking path and make his way up without much of a hassle. It’s rocky in some places, too soft in others, but the roughness of the trip barely makes him pause. He’s had worse, but clearly Ai hasn't. “Holy— warn me next time, would you!?”

“That takes the fun out of it,” Playmaker shrugs, his voice a bit louder over the sound of the bike. “Guide me towards Hanoi. There’s no need to play it coy right now!”

Ai mumbles something Playmaker doesn't catch, and directs him through the woods with accuracy that could only come from something not-human. Eventually, he finds traces of their presence scattered over the foil of the ground; it's hard to hide car wheels marks, and they don't even bother with it. The earthquake makes it hard for him to rise with the bike, so he eventually dumps it and starts running, using the shadows only to make his way easier but not to go faster. He doesn't care about Hanoi knowing he's after them; in fact, Playmaker wants them to feel nervous, to be hyper-aware of the fact that they have a vengeful spirit after them that won't go away until every single one of them is either where they belong in a cell or six feet under.

Playmaker doesn't kill, but he likes to break. It's one irreversible thing about him; no matter how much he holds back, memories of his time as a subject and the suffering Hanoi has caused make him lash out. He's past caring about breaking a few bones— it's better that way, even, almost therapeutic. Not the best way of coping, but it's one of the only things that has worked for him to get all that bottled up fury out. They will heal, eventually. Yusaku can’t, not until he's able to put the pieces together.

And he's so close, it almost tastes of oblivion. 

At his first glance of people, Playmaker picks up the pace, his footsteps loud against the ground. Once he’s close enough to distinguish the classical Hanoi uniforms, he uses all his running impulse to jump right into a shadow, coming out of the ground right in front of his targets, making them all scramble backward out of surprise. One of them trips over a fallen tree branch and falls, so Playmaker grabs him, pulling him up and punching him in the throat.

He hears him choke and watches him spit out blood all over his chin, something clearly broken thanks to the force that he just exerted on him. He turns towards the other five around him who all still scrambling to pull their guns out or to process the situation, so Playmaker tightens his grip on the minion he’s holding and throws him towards two of them with all his strength, making them roll a few meters down the mountain. He turns towards the three that are left, who are taking slow steps backward, and notices that one of them is talking into the communication device in their mask, so he decides to take care of them last. He would hate to miss a chance to talk to the people in charge himself.

Playmaker starts running towards them despite having weapons pointed at him, falls neatly into the shadow of a tree and comes up behind them. Instead of jumping out to grab them though, Playmaker grabs the feet of both of his targets and pulls them in to throw them off balance until the darkness is all but swallowing them as well. They panic, of course, new to the feeling, so Playmaker uses his advantage in knowledge to knock their heads together. They both go limp, most likely with strong concussions, so Playmaker makes sure to send them somewhere where they won’t get in the way, deep into the forest.

He faces his last target then, and he can tell now that it’s a woman, his hands raising up in defense when she points her gun right at him, no hesitation or nervousness to her posture at all. The sun is all but down now, so he has a clear advantage, but she seems to have decided to ignore that— or maybe she’s just that confident. Either way, it’s stupid and exactly what he would expect from a minion like her.

“I just need your earpiece,” Playmaker speaks up, not a trace of exhaustion in his voice despite having taken down four knights in barely a couple minutes. Years ago, they used to be a challenge— he isn’t sure if he’s only gotten stronger or they have gotten lazier. This particular Knight of Hanoi just tightens her grip on the gun, no signs whatsoever of having another plan. “If you give me the earpiece I’ll let you get out of this mountain without any broken bones— I’ll even spare your nose.”

“I don’t care about that,” she spits out— literally. It lands a couple of steps in front of him. There’s nothing remarkable about her, which applies to every single member of the organization, and not for the first time Playmaker wonders how many of their members are just in it for the trip that doing something bad offers them. “Hanoi is my life now, and I’ve never been better. They have accepted me as one of their own and helped me grow into someone stronger, more confident, and ready to take all that I want—”

Playmaker really doesn’t enjoy this part of the job. Sometimes, his enemies like to go on rants about just how good being bad felt, and he almost always spaces out during them, or plays a bingo game in his brain. This woman is clearly going for an  _'I will make my leaders proud so I can show my gratitude for how being evil improved my tendency to be a psycho'_  approach, which is always underwhelming. Do these they never aspire to go up the ranks? Or just become villains on their own? Does Hanoi offer a salary? Do they all just join bioterrorism because it’s free and taboo and help them feel better about having a dark double life?

He lets her talk for thirty counted seconds, and then he runs towards her and ducks, easily predicting the trajectory of the bullet thanks to how distracted she was talking about how  _much_ she looks up to their superior in charge tonight, a comment that only makes him more curious about what exactly they’re doing if there’s someone worthwhile on the field today. Over the last couple of years, Hanoi’s higher-ups have all but vanished— some in jail, some running away, some probably killed inside the organization itself, some hiding. This morning there were just minions running around free to break havoc, and only a couple of them were actually supervising for the sake of actually gathering their testing data.

It makes him as nervous as it makes the adrenaline pump quicker through his veins. 

Yusaku jabs his elbow into her stomach from his crouched position, takes advantage of the momentum and her shock to straighten up and punch her jaw, and then lays her down gently on the ground when she immediately passes out. He might not have much strength, compared to, say, Revolver or  _Go,_ but he’s still above human limitations. It’s actually hard to hold back sometimes, when he’s had a long day and Hanoi is taunting him and firing up his anger in ways that aren’t new but rarely fail to drive him crazy. Tonight is especially jarring, with all this surprise change in behavior and the whole Ai situation.

Shaking his head, Playmaker takes her earpiece from her mask, untangling the wiring, and slots it neatly into his own ear after taking his own out, covering the microphone and thinking about what he’s going to say.

“Ew,” Ai’s head peeks out of his wrist, frowning up at him. “You aren’t even going to clean that? It was in her ear.”

Playmaker rolls his eyes and stands up, listening to the things going on over the earpiece. There’s a male voice asking for confirmation on backup, so Playmaker clears his throat and then brings the mic up to his mouth.

“This is Playmaker talking,” he starts, and isn’t surprised when everything suddenly goes quiet. He continues after a beat. “I want to know who’s in charge tonight and what you’re all doing here. I think it would save us all some time if we spoke about it calmly.”

There are a few seconds of silence in which he thinks no one is going to answer, but then someone clears their throat, there’s some rustling, and a voice he thought he would never hear again after so much time speaks up, as cold and confident as ever.

“This is Dr. Taki, Playmaker,” she says, almost nonchalant as if her sudden presence here, in Den City, on the same mountain he’s at right now isn’t a discovery on its own, an absolute highlight and simultaneously the worst thing that could have happened tonight. “I must say, it’s nice to finally meet you again.”

Blinking, Playmaker looks around him, his jaw clenching and unclenching as a thousand words and questions go all over his head, all on the tip of his tongue. “I thought you were on retirement out of the country, doctor. Didn’t expect to ever see you again.”

Dr. Taki laughs as if they’re old friends, and something inside Playmaker twists, dark and angry and vicious making him struggle to not close his fist around the mic. “Well, I would call it more of a vacation. They weren’t any fun, though. There are much more interesting things going on here tonight.”

“I didn’t expect someone of your jurisdiction to be here tonight,” Playmaker bites the inside of his cheek and stares at Ai for a few seconds, his mind already coming up with several bad reasons for her to be here. Viruses somehow related to the Ignis come to mind, but that’s just one of many crazy theories. “This must be important.”

“As you can imagine, Playmaker” Dr. Taki answers, not missing a beat. Not being able to stay still anymore, Playmaker stands up and starts walking up the mountain again, keeping his footsteps as light and quiet as possible. “We can’t afford our actions here to find themselves compromised by you. It would be best for everyone if you left.”

“That’s what you always say,” Playmaker points out, sighing. “I’m not one of your helpless test subjects anymore, doctor. You can’t exactly keep trying to tell me what to do.”

“You make it difficult to negotiate.”

At that, Playmaker pauses and actually snorts out loud at the ridiculous notion that he should be doing any kind of negotiation with the Knights of Hanoi, or with one of the individuals that he all but  _knows_ was somehow involved with his abduction and torture. “You know I’ll find you. Perhaps today I’ll put you back in jail, after so many years traveling the world.”

“But will you keep me in this time?”

A hot rush of blind fury runs through his veins at the memory of Taki Kyoko’s aided escape from prison only three months into her sentence, already six years ago. It made him want to tear his hair out then and it still does now; there’s been absolutely no change in how he feels about scum like her. He knows for a fact she has a soft side— but no matter how many times she pretty much turns herself in, it’s never going to erase what she did.

“You better be well prepared, then,” Playmaker doesn’t hide the anger in his voice, wanting her to know he has no intention of leaving this place without her in tow. He takes off the earpiece immediately after he’s done talking, not wanting to hear her response, drops it to the ground and steps on it as viciously as he can.

Immediately afterward, Playmaker takes a deep breath and taps his earpiece, static blaring for a second before Soulburner’s voice takes over, still not clear.

“Taki is here,” are his opening words, and Soulburner makes a small choked off sound over the line. “Keep your eyes and ears open. We’re taking her with us tonight.”

“Playmaker, are you sure it’s her? There have been copycats—”

“It’s her,” Playmaker interrupts, and starts to walk up the mountain again, picking up his pace as he goes. “I talked to her. Unless they have an amazing imitator with them, there’s no other explanation.”

“Alright,” Soulburner sighs, and Playmaker can tell that’s he’s deeply regretting not staying in town for civilian relief. “We’re leaving with a big fish tonight then. I haven’t found anything, but I hear a camp a bit ahead— I’ll notify you if I need anything.”

“I’ll keep the communication open,” Playmaker leaves it at that, nodding to himself at Soulburner’s hum of agreement. It’s not a thing they do often, but it seems necessary this time around. With someone like Taki on the case, anything could happen at any time.

He’s allowed peace for only a few minutes after that in which an earthquakes almost manages to bring him down to his knees – they seem to be slowing down; he has no idea if that’s good – but then Ai reminds him he’s not going to have the luxury to be alone for a long, long while. “Playmaker-sama, you’re so mysterious.”

“I’m not,” he raises an eyebrow at the trees around him, not dignifying Ai with a look and picking up his pace, tilting his head to be able to hear any possible incoming company. He’s now in hyper-vigilance, but there’s something that sits wrong in his gut, a hunch that he’s missing something. He can barely focus over the earthquakes, the revelations, his exhaustion, and that awful humming, so he’s surprised he’s still in one piece. “I’m nothing compared to Revolver.”

“Uh, you do talk about him a lot. Jin-chan was not exaggerating one bit—”

“He insists on making everything too difficult, alright?” Playmaker frowns and then shakes his head. Ai actually snickers at his obvious deflect, but he feels no shame again. “I don’t want to talk about that. Keep a lookout, there’s something—”

Someone throws a bomb at him. 

He hears and watches it land barely a meter in front of him and has enough time to leap into a shadow and fall into the ground just enough distance away to not die or get injured beyond scratches and a couple of cuts. It was a small bomb, with small range, but loud and just as dangerous as a real one if you let it caught you. 

It doesn’t take a genius to assume he’s surrounded. A quick look around confirms there’s only three of them, approaching with bombs in hand— but then another earthquake interrupts and Playmaker decides that he doesn’t want to deal with those bombs unless he’s using them himself, so he takes advantage of the situation and tackles every single Hanoi minion faster than they can process it, wrestling the bombs out their hands. It’s not a good technique, because those could have blown up in his face, but nothing an earthquake, a broken arm and a knee on their backs couldn’t solve.

With that out of the way, Playmaker gets pointed by one of them to their camp location through some effective convincing: finger breaking. He doesn’t think that knight will ever be quite the same after having Playmaker sitting on their back shattering their fingers almost beyond repair, but it’s what this job demands. Years ago, the sound of bones cracking used to freak him out, but he’s practically numb to it now. It helps that he’s dealing with terrorists and vile humans most of the time.

Logically, their camp already knows he’s coming, but at least he has some bombs on his possession now, that he all but shoves inside one of the weird bottomless pockets of his suit’s belt that he can’t explain and doesn’t think too hard about. He’s more than halfway up the mountain and he can already hear them on his own; Playmaker decides that sneaking in is for the best, because Dr. Taki being here changes pretty much everything, so he needs to observe and—

Hanoi is, of course, prepared, but he was certainly not expecting to hear them dig into the mountain, and it dawns on him that he might need the back up  _now._ He brings a hand up to tap his earpiece to find it gone, probably because of the fall he took avoiding the bomb, and looks around the chaos of their numbers carrying tools and weapons around as if they’re preparing for war. Night has fallen over all of them completely, so it’s only a matter of time before Soulburner becomes noticeable anyways. Hopefully, they’ll find each other before something terrible happens. Soulburner does have a thing for being late.

Another earthquake makes the sounds of digging stop, and Playmaker has to wonder what’s so important that they’re doing this in these conditions. It’s possible that they planted some kind of cluster in the mountain and they want to help it out, but the more he thinks about their behavior, the more he believes that this is somehow connected to the Ignis. He can feel it in his gut, though perhaps more accurately there’s something nagging him in the back of his mind— literally. How much of a coincidence can it be that Hanoi organizes two attacks the same day he accidentally gets involved with Ai and finds some leverage against Revolver?

So, with a sigh, Playmaker picks up the pace and literally runs into the first Hanoi thug he sets his eyes on, swinging his leg and spinning his body to kick them in the face. The camp was already in disarray before his arrival; Hanoi had no doubt a change in leadership about five, maybe six years ago, and since then it hasn’t been quite the same when it comes to manpower. Quantity is never better than quality when your objective is to take over society via virus engineering. 

Five thugs close in on him and Playmaker clenches his fists, his eyes set not on them but rather on his objective.

Dr. Taki is watching from the entrance of her tent, her lips pulled into a tense line while her second-in-command for the day barks orders that everyone else struggles to follow. They make eye contact, despite the chaos, and Playmaker’s eyes narrow. 

He’s ready.

She retreats back inside her tent just as Playmaker throws himself into the fray, trying to make quick work of her lackeys to catch her before she escapes. It’s not easy because it’s a lot of them, and the occasional tremble of the ground make him more unsteady than he ever is, but it’s not overly complicated. When someone approaches him from behind, he uses the body he has on the front as a shield by grabbing them, spinning and pushing them towards the attacker, making the most out of his limited resources. Using a bomb in close range would not be fun.

He’s not one to shadow-travel away in really close quarters either. It’s too unpredictable in those cases unless he has some sort of backup, but Soulburner has not given any signals of even being in his immediate surroundings, probably having found something or dealing with whatever he found around his side of the mountain.

He makes his way to Dr. Taki’s tent steady but too slow, and it worries him, because he doesn’t want her to run away. He never understood why she would break out of jail after she all but made it look six years ago like she was done with this lifestyle, and it seemed somewhat sketchy that she was suddenly back on the field after so much time.

He doesn’t get to think about it too deeply, though— a gunshot rings out from inside the tent, followed by another two in quick succession, and for a second Playmaker fears that Dr. Taki has decided that she wouldn’t be caught at all, nor would she escape this time, so he hurries his pace, breezes through the remaining knights by allowing himself to punch harder and move faster, barely noticing the crunch of bones breaking under his touch in his hurry to get to the tent, but he is not prepared for the sight that greets him.

Dr. Taki is there, alright, on her feet and without a hair out of place, pointing a gun at the kneeling, wide-eyed and clearly panicked figure of Kogami Ryoken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was it worth three months? probably not but thank you for reading anyways!!!! please don't be afraid to leave a comment about this and tell me what you think of the story so far. i know that there's more than a few... curious bits lol.


	6. recognition (part two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold! An update! Probably shorter than it should have been, but certainly hope you enjoy. There's a lot to come for the next one. Thanks for reading and sticking around! I'd love to hear what you think of the story of so far and if you have any questions, so don't be afraid to leave a comment.

Spectre doesn’t want to be insensitive, but Ryoken could be a downright idiot at times.

He more than anyone else knows how his brain works and how deep his feelings are buried in the dark depths of his being, underneath all the things he feels responsible and guilty about and having a lower priority than it should in between all the literal _noise_ in his head _,_ but it is frankly annoying when Ryoken’s inability to explain himself gets in the way of their own plans. There’s also the fact that fifty-percent of the time he ignores his very useful advice; perhaps the Ignis wouldn’t have felt half as threatened if they had left that dagger behind like he suggested.

He can obviously admit that being raised in a human experimentation lab where your father poked you at you with all kinds of medical equipment every day probably ruined Ryoken’s… everything, on both a physical and emotional level, and that he’s not one to talk much about or even judge his decisions when he isn’t exactly the sharpest tool when it comes to handling other people's feelings— but common sense is something that he, thankfully, hasn’t lost, but that Ryoken seems to throw out of the window every time things go south in a way they weren’t expecting. Spectre can hardly blame him because when their plans are ruined things usually go wrong big time no matter what they do to stop it, and he knows that Ryoken is in general extremely cool-headed, but he just gets really fed up with it sometimes. Especially when it comes to Playmaker, that wretched minx that makes Ryoken’s brain melt with just a look.

Still, he understands the complications that plague his mind and would never dare to complain about them in a way that wasn’t meant to make him feel somewhat more balanced, but it’s hard to keep this positive attitude about it when he’s walking under a mountain looking for a rogue Ignis that’s most definitely causing earthquakes, no doubt as a side effect of both its overwhelming feelings and it's raw power. Spectre can’t wait to watch the news tomorrow morning; that’s meant to be hilarious if he survives tonight.

Another tremor goes through the ground and up towards the surface, and he feels the vibrations all through his body, making him stop for a few seconds before continuing on downwards, following the remnants of that little whisper in the back of his mind. There’s a limit to how far down he can go before he starts getting short on oxygen or his body gives in to the pressure of the earth he's bending, but he’s not that far off his goal. He just needs to find a way to get to the Ignis without it escaping at the sight of him, and then try to convince it to calm down and listen to him. He’s afraid the only way to gather some attention and tentative trust might be through real, actual honesty and not his attempts at psychological manipulation he usually goes with, but it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make. Ryoken does ask him if he needs a listening in for his own issues sometimes, but Spectre would just rather it not be him after everything he’s done to keep him out of harm’s way.

Spectre's been paying back the freedom he has now for a few years now and doesn't think he'll ever feel like he's given Ryoken as much as he gave him, but he's going to try his best to be there for him when he needs him and take some of the weight of the world off his back.

He just hopes he isn’t having much trouble on the surface.

* * *

Ryoken has decided that trees suck, despite how he has an immense amount of respect for them thanks to Spectre. This one, in particular, is the worst tree he’s come in contact within his life, because it fell on top of him and dug its bark into his face. He could barely feel it and it didn’t hurt, but it was like his skin was being tickled with sandpaper. Not fun and certainly not an experience he would like to repeat.

They were still useful, though. The branches and leaves kept him hidden from Playmaker’s view, and he managed to not make a sound when the bombs exploded and made the tree he was perched on top of fall down, taking him with him. His shirt is ripped, which will raise many questions from— well, anyone, but he’d rather explain it to a stranger than to Playmaker. The lack of any marks on his skin will surely be something to be questioned about if he allows himself to be looked at.

Perhaps he should be angry at him instead of the tree for not noticing the fact that they were surrounded, but he doesn’t have the motivation or energy to focus on that right now, or rather, to add it to the list. He’s still angry at him for the events of this morning regarding the Ignis, and then strangely disappointed because of his rejection in class, so the last thing he wants is to add _‘he made a tree fall on top of me’_ to the list. That statement would be wrong anyways— Hanoi was responsible for the bombs, after all, but Ryoken is just feeling petty.

Hearing Playmaker torture a guy is somewhat entertaining, though, even if he doesn't get to see it. He’d like to think he inspired some of his techniques, but he knows better than anyone that Playmaker could be absolutely ruthless if not downright coldhearted and cruel at times without supervision.

It’s part of what he likes about him. The bodysuit _certainly_ helps.

Playmaker is off and Ryoken is able to push the tree off him, careful not to make any noise. He has no doubt he can handle taking the camp by himself, but Ryoken will make sure to keep an eye on him— if Dr. Taki is around, then she will want to have all of her fighting forces focused on him while other camps around the mountain keep digging or come to the rescue. His work on the equipment will only set them back for so long, and he needs to make sure Spectre gets out safely as his main priority.

Ryoken walks in the opposite direction Playmaker headed to, but a hand clutching his leg stops him from getting too far away. He looks down to see one of the Hanoi cronies staring at him through a broken gap in their mask, the visible eye narrowed. Ryoken doesn't have to be an expert to know they have recognized him, so it is with little hesitation that he frees his foot from their grasp and presses it against their throat, hard, until they choking because of the lack of oxygen.

Ryoken makes sure there's no rise and fall or any lingering struggling from them before lifting his foot, confident in that they're dead. It's not his favorite or fastest killing method, but it anything else would appear even more suspicious when the police and paramedics arrived for search and rescue or just plain arresting. He walks over to one of the other minions laying around, finds them all unconscious and bleeding, so Ryoken grabs some of the blood and smears it over his shirt and stomach in an attempt to cover up his lack of wounds, just in case. He would ditch the shirt and just infiltrate again with a Hanoi suit, but he can't be bothered.

He stops afterward, rethinking his strategy. It’s highly likely that Dr. Taki is the one in the camp Playmaker is attacking right now, and while she was no military leader or anything of the like, she was at least more competent than many of the new disposables that had been put on command of their forces. He wasn’t worried about how Playmaker would fare against them, but Kyoko…

Ryoken goes back to the body of the guy he choked and takes his gun. He almost wants to be upset that he had to dump his own only to grab these, but his choice in firearms was far more specific than those Hanoi gave out for their lackeys to use. It would be suspicious otherwise, if he was found and claimed to be defending himself, the fact that he has a permit to carry guns notwithstanding.

Ryoken walks around the perimeter of the campsite, taking advantage of the fact that everyone’s attention is on Playmaker to sneak into one of the tents and watch out for any chance to get into the main one without being noticed. He gets momentarily distracted by observing Playmaker fight; he’s agile and quick, flexible, but can take on people twice his size without breaking a sweat. There’s something highly hypnotizing about the way he moves, fluidly and with a certain grace that reminds Ryoken of a dancer, or perhaps more accurately, a wild cat like a panther— he’s danger hidden in a small, unsuspecting package, but Ryoken’s mind concerns itself with the sight for only a few seconds.

He watches Playmaker judo-flip a man that must be the same height as Onizuka Go and then focuses his eyes on his target, watching how Kyoko retreats back inside her tent with apparent calmness. Ryoken, of course, knows better— she must be nervous about the idea of being caught and failing again, though not by the police, and the almost unnoticeable crease of her eyebrows confirms it.

There are worse things than jail in this life, and they both are aware of it.

He quickly realizes that going unnoticed will probably be a bigger issue than he anticipated, so Ryoken turns back to the perimeter and walks around, searching for a perfect angle to sneak in from. By the time he finds a blind spot, Playmaker has seriously reduced the number of Hanoi knights in fighting conditions, so Ryoken ducks his head and dashes inside the tent, taking in the opportunity when he sees Playmaker being assaulted from behind.

There are three guns pointed at him the second he steps in, all of the Knights of Hanoi that were inside reacting quicker than he expected from their decrease in quality, but he reciprocates just as fast by pointing his gun directly at Kyoko.

They were picking up everything, from the looks of it. Folders are around the table, papers half-heartedly shoved inside them. The board they were no doubt using to pin information lays face down on the floor, and the map of the mountain they were using is very nearly hitting the floor. He sees the points marked on it, no doubt places to dig, and clenches his jaw at how close they were to the actual location of the Ignis while simultaneously missing it.

Ryoken meets Kyoko’s eyes, but this time his hand doesn’t shake when he takes the safety off the gun like it did all those years ago.

“Ryoken,” she says, her voice carefully controlled, but her eyes dart around to the other three people standing around them, lingering at the guns. She’s nervous. “This is quite the surprise.”

“I could say the same to you,” Ryoken allows his voice to become harsh and cold, and spies out of the corner of his eye the way one of what he can only assume are Kyoko’s assistants fidgets in confusion, clearly recognizing his tone as that of their former leader. When Ryoken meets her eyes again, she raises one eyebrow. “I thought you were laying low after jail.”

“Some things require my hands-on approach,” she looks around the room again and sighs, then raises up one hand. There’s hesitation before her companions put down their guns, and after that they immediately go about picking up whatever is left to clean up for a quick getaway. Ryoken keeps his out. “We agreed that this wouldn’t happen, Ryoken. We agreed you would forget..”

“We did that, what, six years ago? Things have changed, and forgetting is not easy,” Ryoken tilts his head towards the map, unimpressed. “Seriously?”

Kyoko waves her hand, shrugging it off, and then gets her own gun out of her belt and shoots one of her assistants in the head. The other two turn around in panic, but they only meet Ryoken's bullets between their eyes. They’re down immediately, and the sounds of the fighting outside stops before it picks up again, this time with more screaming. Playmaker clearly heard what went on, so Ryoken kneels on the ground, throws his gun towards one of the dead assistants, and raises his hands up while Kyoko points her gun at him.

“You’ll be safer in jail,” Ryoken tells her, his voice barely above a whisper. “No one can touch you there.”

“You assume I will make it there alive a second time, as if the first wasn’t a miracle,” she pauses, her expression becoming softer, and Ryoken keeps the eye contact even though he doesn’t want to, because he knows what she’ll say. “You should have stayed with your cousin, Ryoken.”

Ryoken takes a deep breath and shakes his head, not dignifying the words with an answer. She opens her mouth, probably to try and make him explain to her what he thinks he’s doing, but then Playmaker bargains into the tent and makes her freeze, her grip on the gun pointing at him more steady.

Ryoken doesn’t look at Playmaker, but he feels his eyes on him, already burning with confusion and suspicions. He does his best to look at least mildly threatened by the gun, and he doesn’t have to pretend much— he pictures a white room, a similar situation, and terror creeps on its own, growing inside him to a point. He allows for it to show on his face, shivers going through his body and goosebumps rising on his skin. He feels nauseous as he stares at the barrel of the gun, but simultaneously distances himself from the situation to keep his mind calm.

His body enters in shock, completely frozen on the spot, but his mind remains quiet— too quiet, perhaps, but it allows him to take in the situation to process it later.

“Dr. Taki,” Playmaker speaks up, and Ryoken risks a glance to see him raising a hand towards Kyoko and eyeing Ryoken like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. He meets his eyes and swallows, pretending to be more nervous than he is even with that small amount of self-induced fear and adrenaline rushing through his veins. “He’s a civilian. He’s not involved.”

Kyoko grins at him sardonically, knowing very well that he is, in fact, a lion in sheep’s clothes.

“You know who he is, right?” she asks, her tone perfectly pleasant. She doesn’t give away a drop of hesitation, playing into her role as a villain. “You must. I thought you’d want him dead.”

Ryoken’s eyes glance up to meet hers. “Rude.”

Kyoko takes a step forward and presses the gun against his forehead, the cool metal making him shiver. When she talks it’s stern, closer to a warning than a simple order, and Ryoken almost regrets doing this on purpose. “Quiet.”

Ryoken glares at her, but Playmaker interrupts like he thinks he will try to provoke her. He would, if the feeling of having a gun against his skin wasn't threatening to make him hyperventilate.

“There’s nothing on him, Dr. Taki. Let him go,” Playmaker’s eyes drift towards the dead bodies and his eyes widen almost unnoticeably, his entire demeanor changing, his voice harsher. “You’ve done enough.”

Kyoko pretends to think about it and then looks down at Ryoken, meeting his eyes.

“How much do you care?” She asks, her eyes narrowing, but she doesn’t look away from Ryoken for one second. It’s clear, by the almost imperceptible wrinkles of worry and fear around her mouth and eyes, that she’s asking something far deeper than whether Playmaker cares or not about saving civilian lives. It feels like she’s asking Ryoken the same thing, in fact, which is a heart-shaking thought in and of itself.

Playmaker takes a measured step forward, bringing his hands up when Kyoko presses the gun more insistently against Ryoken’s skin and making actual fear spike inside him at the idea that she might actually shoot. It’s brief and immediately going away to be dealt with later by himself,  thanks to the slight shake in Kyoko’s hand that anyone else might attribute to the danger of being this close to being arrested but that he knows comes from deeper worries.

“Does it matter?” Playmaker speaks up, his eyes drifting towards Ryoken like he’s having trouble coming up with a plan to get him out of this one. It makes Ryoken take one shaky breath in himself, because either Playmaker gets shot trying to save his skin, Kyoko gets captured trying to keep up this facade, or Ryoken gets shot because he makes reckless decisions. He’s not looking forward to any of those options. “He’s not involved. You don’t have to do this; you’re rarely the one behind the trigger and I don’t think killing him, specifically, will do much.”

Ryoken internally scoffs, because that statement couldn’t be more backward. Kyoko meets Ryoken’s eyes again, and despite the fact that all of this was meant to be a facade in hopes of salvaging his identity, Ryoken is able to pinpoint the moment in which Kyoko’s resolve to not get caught crumbles. Ryoken can tell she wants nothing more than to get far, far away from Hanoi, and Playmaker poses the tempting option of living the rest of her life safely in jail, atoning for what she'd done.

But she already said that it would be a miracle if she ever got behind bars alive. Her jailbreak wasn’t even her choice, as far as Ryoken knows. He can’t imagine what kind of welcome she would have if she got caught for a second time, and he’s seen and even orchestrated punishments himself, never getting any satisfaction from it. It was just what he was meant to do, and he did it, though he guesses they’re far more ruthless now without him to have some mercy no matter how insignificant in the face of everything else.

With one heavy sigh, Kyoko drops the gun to the ground, so fast that it actually makes Ryoken flinch away from it, knowing the safety wasn’t on. She raises her hands in surrender and looks straight in the eye at Playmaker, who is as serious as Ryoken’s ever seen him; Kyoko just effectively decided to take the risk of getting caught by Hanoi instead of trying to kill one or both of them, once again putting Ryoken over herself. Ryoken looks at her with wide eyes, and tries to communicate how thankful he is for this, but Kyoko's hard expression doesn't change. She keeps her gaze on Playmaker, her lips pulled into a hard line, and something about it makes him stiffen, a gut feeling telling him that there are things even he doesn’t know.

“I’m not the one leading the search,” her voice is measured, low, and it makes his blood run cold, feels himself paling. He tries to reason that the only other two people leading this on Kyoko’s level aren’t an issue to deal with, but if they're involved with this project, more than any of the other knights, more than Kyoko— he can’t ever risk being seen again. He miscalculated how much interest Hanoi has in the Ignis. “I was just assigned this operation as a way to redeem myself. It’s not like I was left another choice once they found me, so here I am.”

Playmaker frowns at her, clearly smelling something is fishy here. Ryoken takes that second to search him from head to toe with his eyes, and ends up making eye contact with the Ignis; it waves at him from behind Playmaker’s hip, but no one else seems to notice. Ryoken acts like he has no idea what the fuck he’s seeing.

“What are you looking for here?” Playmaker asks, and Ryoken almost wants to roll his eyes, because it’s quite obvious he already knows the answer. There hasn’t been an earthquake in a while now, which Ryoken takes a good sign, but Playmaker is clearly concerned about it— probably because he doesn’t know why there were any earthquakes in the first place. Ryoken can just cross his fingers that this means Spectre succeeded. “It’s related to the Ignis, isn’t it?”

“Oh, you know about that?” Kyoko’s eyes drift towards Ryoken, who just looks away and slowly drags himself away from her, standing up slowly as if he fears she’ll pull another gun on him. “I might as well tell you the truth, then: we are looking for one for the six Ignis, but we don’t know exactly where it is. Digging was our best shot, since I had an idea or where it could be. It’s the reason I was assigned this location.”

Something about her wording makes Playmaker’s eyes widen, and Ryoken feels the same wave of uneasiness that might have hit him. “You mean there are other teams working on location?”

Uncharacteristically cooperative, probably because of the possibility that she might be dead come a few days, Kyoko opens her mouth, but gets interrupted by the sound of cars speeding over the ground and then stopping outside the tent, sounds which are followed by footsteps and people barking orders. He recognizes some of the voices with dread and allows his face to show it— a civilian would certainly be allowed to be pissed there’s more Hanoi coming to terrorize them, right? Otherwise, he might just look constipated.

Playmaker jumps into action by stepping forward and grabbing Kyoko by the elbow then signaling for Ryoken to follow him, his voice barely above a whisper and a hand landing on his shoulder with a reassuring squeeze as soon as he gets close enough. Ryoken wonders if he really looks that bad, but the shakiness to his knees is very real— he shouldn’t be putting himself in front of guns like that, but at least this time it was a necessity instead of a morbid game of Russian roulette on his cousin’s rooftop. “Are you alright?”

Ryoken doesn’t do much beside nod, but Playmaker seems to spot the blood over his shirt and hesitates, his brow furrowing like he doesn’t believe him one bit. It’s clear that his personal relationship with Ryoken is affecting him at some level, but he snaps back into action when more voices ring out, even closer and signaling that the new arrivals are looking through the campsite.

Playmaker takes them through the same opening Ryoken used to get in but it turned out to be a useless attempt at escaping. They are surrounded, a semi-organized team of Hanoi soldiers with big flashy weapons he hasn’t ever seen before pointing at them. One of them steps up, clearly the one that was in charge of this particular band of useless servants, but it isn’t until he opens his mouth that Ryoken recognizes him.

“Playmaker,” he says, and Ryoken takes a step back, trying to avoid getting noticed right away, but it’s useless; going back inside the tent won’t do him any favors, and it’s not like he can just sneak away when there are lights pointed at him. “Let her go and we can pretend this never happened.”

Playmaker clenches his teeth so hard that Ryoken immediately knows there’s no way out of this that doesn’t require fighting. “Wouldn’t it be easier if you just let me take her instead? And then I come back to all of you?”

“Please, as if that—” the man suddenly pauses, and seemingly focuses his eyes on Ryoken and snaps his head fully, recognition flashing across the one uncovered eye. He’s wearing the Hanoi uniform, already sullied by the dirt of the mountain, the only detail signaling his rank being that of the band wrapped around his arm; other than that, the usual Hanoi mask without a hood doesn’t really hide his identity, so when Ryoken meets his eyes he can’t help but feel a wave of nostalgia and fury hitting him first force that he hides under a wide-eyed look. “You are…”

Playmaker, understandably confused at the scene in front of him, takes a step forward, not even flinched at how all guns follow the movement. He moves in front of Ryoken, as if to protect him from the prying looks of people around him, and with the knowledge that he can’t see his face like this, Ryoken takes the chance to throw a glare towards their mutual enemy that’s met with a raised eyebrow and a surprised tilt of his head.

Faust raises one hand to signal all the knights around him to hold, and when he speaks, it’s very clear that Ryoken will have a hard time getting out of this one.

“Retrieve him, unharmed. Walking away with him it’s far better than walking away with an Ignis.”

Muscles tensing in anticipation, Playmaker lets out what Ryoken could only call a growl. “ _Ai._ ”

And then, without much preamble, the Ignis pops out of Playmaker’s bodysuit with a jump, and turns into a tentacle monster mid-air, immediately swatting away with a smack a third of their unprepared and shocked fighting forces. Ryoken, for his part, can only think about one thing only; there’s genuine fear running through his veins, but he’s long learned how to control it and focus on his priorities. Taking hold of Kyoko’s wrist, Ryoken exchanges one look with her and mouths one word only for her to see:

_Spectre._

Her eyes widen, her face paling until it looks like paper, and Ryoken knows, without a doubt, that they’ll get out of here. He just has to be smart about it, so when Kyoko twists her hand out of his hold and steps forward, in between Playmaker and Hanoi, Ryoken allows her, and watches her meet Faust’s eyes with the knowledge that he just sacrificed her chance at freedom if not life just to get Spectre more time to get out.

He’s long past not being able to make hard decisions.

* * *

Spectre isn’t sure how much time he’s been underground, but it’s starting to worry him. Not because he’s never been underground for this long, but because with every second that passes in which he doesn’t find the Ignis, and with every earthquake, the more dangerous the situation on top of them – and for himself, really – becomes, because there’s no telling just what the Ignis will do after its done with the temper tantrum.

He tries to think of it as a child, no matter how ironic that is considering its origin, because otherwise, he will struggle when trying to get through to it when he sees it as an artificial-but-not-quite being. Spectre genuinely doesn’t want it to run away from him, because he’s had that whispery voice in the back of his mind keeping him company for almost as long as he can remember now, and it made life interesting and far less lonely. He wants to know more about it, and not in a necessarily scientific way— no, Spectre is not interested in that kind of study, but he enjoys learning about other life forms. This one happens to be connected to him, so it’s only natural that he’s _curious._

This deep underground every earthquake makes him almost fall to his knees and rattles him to the bone, which probably isn’t good for him. There are limits his body has, and he has to act within them, but the Ignis is slippery. He doesn’t lose any hope of completely missing it or it escaping, because where is it going to go? It might have learned about the human world through him, but that doesn’t mean it knows what to do with the information. Spectre doubts the Ignis isn’t aware that if it shows up somewhere where people can see it, then it will get pointed at, screamed at, grabbed at and ultimately poked at in some government facility— or with Hanoi.

Minutes pass without any trace of the Ignis, and Spectre walks and walks through the path he’s carving until he reaches another underground cave and decides to take a break, exhaustion settling in. He thinks about the possibility of dying, alone, tired and frustrated at a little alien thing, despite having no real reason to think that way beyond mind-numbing boredom. He doesn’t think that he’s ever used his power continuously for quite this long, so a break was incoming or he would have ended up burning out, but the way he is leaning against the wall of the cave as another earthquake goes through the mountain and his balance fails distracts him from seeing the huge boulder headed right towards him.

If he had seen it and if he hasn’t been exhausted already, Spectre would have been able to stop it with no issue whatsoever, but as it stands, he would have been crushed by it if not for the Ignis suddenly jumping out of the ground to attach itself to it, the boulder becoming dust the second its hand touch the surface.

Spectre trips on his own feet from the shock and ends up kneeling on the ground. The Ignis doesn't even turn towards him as it leaves, apparently indifferent to the fact that it just saved his life despite being openly against interacting with him.

It gives Spectre some pause as his heartbeat drums on his ears, and it's barely a few seconds in which he allows himself to feel grateful for this that he decides that he won't waste this change. The Ignis walks, and every step makes the mountain shake. Spectre can't help but feel a bit fascinated by so much power in something so small, and he doesn't underestimate the quick rush of fear that goes through his veins.

If he wants to get through to the Ignis, then he has to show his respect— and there's little else he's better at than that, when he wants to be.

"Wait!" he yells at the Ignis, struggling to breathe in what little oxygen there is this deep underground, where the little air there is heavy and thick with the smell of the earth itself. It stops, but the earthquake itself keeps going, its subconscious anger making the worse out of the situation. "Just allow me to explain. Things have changed far more than you could have imagined."

There is a slight pause, and then words whispering in the back of his mind as the Ignis turns.

"You came with all this mystery," the Ignis shakes its head, looking genuinely saddened. Something shakes insides Spectre's chest that feels foreign but like it's somehow coming from within him. "You came armed. You are both afraid of me and when I demand answers you want to feed me half-lies."

"I wish it wasn't like this," Spectre says, keeping his voice even. The earth seems to swallow the words, yet the Ignis remains, willing to listen. "See, I can't explain it all here, right now— but you need to know you're in danger. We look suspicious, we know that, but right now there are people on this mountain looking to take you away and lock you up to open you and use you as a lab rat. And those people want us, too, the partners. They think we're theirs."

Spectre doesn't know if the Ignis can swallow, but this one almost seems to do so; its body language is as clear as that of any other human, and it makes admiration and curiosity fill his mind, the natural connection between them only fueling his feelings to get to know the Ignis more.

Spectre wonders if Playmaker felt like this, like something had irreversibly fallen into place, but he guesses that it must have been different, somehow— Ryoken had not stopped complaining about the Ignis seemingly having an active personality, different from the one the Ignis before him is displaying. He likes it; Spectre would have not been able to deal with an extroverted hyperactive little shit. There was only one maniac in the house and that was him.

"Why would they think that?" The Ignis seems hesitant, not willing to trust Spectre yet. "The doctor… didn't he say we would help humanity?"

Old anger bubbles up his throat, the thought of Kogami Kiyoshi meaning to help anyone other than himself almost making him scoff. It's been a while since Spectre's dares to let that man get to him, but here he is anyways, because if there's someone to blame all of this on, it's him.

"The doctor was a liar," Spectre shakes his head, looks down at the ground and clenches his fist, a frown disfiguring his features. "Only ever after his own selfish goals. He's done awful things to all of us, to his own son. There's no telling what plans he set in motion when he was still in charge."

The Ignis doesn't answer right away. Silence grows between them, Spectre's anger slowly winding down until he's back to feeling that almost-sadness that's not quite his own.

“It wasn’t meant to be like this,” the Ignis clenches its fists, its eyes narrowing and staring at the ground. “This isn’t what I… what any of us expected.”

Spectre sighs, nodding in agreement. “None of us chose this. But you can help me and Ryoken-sama keep you all safe. He may seem untrustworthy, but that’s just how he is. He hasn’t put me in danger on purpose once.”

The Ignis doesn’t look up at Spectre immediately, but the earthquakes aren’t happening anymore. Silence grows between them, but they’re too deep under the earth for Spectre to hear anything from the surface, and it’s with a bit of hesitation that he decides to sit on the ground to make the conversation seem more like they're on even ground. He has hopes that this will turn out well.

“The doctor’s son… why do you trust him so much? He is not a part of Dr. Kogami’s plans,” the Ignis looks up at him with genuinely conflicted eyes; the lack of pupils throw him off, but he sees no indication that the feelings behind them are any less real than something a human might feel. “I know nothing of his beyond his identity, and that’s because of you.”

Spectre intertwines his fingers together, tapping his thumbs against the back of his hands. “It’s a long story.”

The Ignis narrows his eyes at him and Spectre sighs again, shrugging once. If he wants to get the Ignis to trust him, he has to come clean— he dislikes doing so in general, of course, because where’s the fun in not keeping people on their toes? But regardless, if this is what it takes, then so be it. Never say Spectre doesn’t do what has to be done.

“Ryoken-sama saved me as a child,” he starts, his voice even and soft. The Ignis sits down as well, long thin legs closed in a perfect imitation of Spectre’s position. “I won’t go into detail right now, but the gist of it is that after the experiments were done, I found my way back to Dr. Kogami. He had already moved on to… _other projects_ , so he wasn’t interested in me beyond keeping me as a pet, just in case. Ryoken-sama made sure that I was never in any actual danger, and he suffered every consequence of that without complaining.”

“Why would you come back?” The Ignis seems genuinely confused about this, and Spectre hums with a shrug. This, of course, does nothing to stop him, and he feels a pull in his mind right before the Ignis speaks up again. “Did you like the experiments?”

Spectre frowns down at the Ignis, his hands clenching. “Don’t you know it’s rude to pull feelings or information out of people's mind without consent?”

The Ignis blanches, its eyes widening and taken aback. “Uh, I learned a lot about this world through you, but the information was really filtered. I don’t understand most of it yet.”

_Hm, that’s... curious_ , Spectre thinks, remembering Ryoken’s description of the other Ignis running loose. That didn’t seem to be the case for that one.

“To answer your question,” Spectre continues, clearing his throat, and the Ignis seems to relax at the lack of real annoyance in his voice. “I did not like them, per se. They were awful and all I can really remember in detail is the pain, but I enjoyed the attention and the company. I can’t really hate them as much as the other subjects probably do— my life improved after it, in an odd way, and theirs probably took a downfall.”

The Ignis crossed its arms, clearly not quite where Spectre wants it yet. “Then why are you and the doctor’s son working together like this, separate from anyone else?”

At the question, Spectre takes a second to think about it, wondering just how much should he tell right now and without Ryoken’s explicit permission. The time they both spent under the watch of Hanoi was long, years that now he looks back on with little more than distaste, so he isn’t quite sure where to begin or how to explain what led them to abandon the organization.

They had very different roles, just a few years ago. This plan still felt too new for him, still hasn’t settled in his bones, and the fact that Playmaker got to an Ignis before they did only proved it.

“It’s a bit hard to explain and even harder to understand,” Spectre keeps his voice low, coming up with his train of thought as the words form in his tongue. “The doctor wasn’t looking for you to help humanity. That was probably the truth in the beginning, but after you went into a deep sleep? His motivations changed. He did things… organized things that we could barely handle. He wanted Ryoken to be something he’s not and to find you all again to turn you all into weapons, maybe replicate the experiments to have a superhuman army. It was unclear what he wanted beyond power, but right now Hanoi is just following in his steps of the plan he came up with years ago.”

The Ignis seems to deflate with every single word out of his mouth, its brow furrowing. Spectre gives it a moment to process everything, the silence almost deafening, and it isn’t until he hears a wet sound that he looks back at the Ignis to see it wipe at its face with its hands, tears running from his eyes. A deep sadness takes root in his heart at the sight, sadness that feels both foreign and familiar tearing deep into his chest, but he hesitates to move, not wanting to interrupt or overwhelm the Ignis and cause another earthquake.

After a few seconds, the Ignis sighs and nods, looking up at Spectre with eyes so human that they make his shoulders slump, real concern over the Ignis growing without any warning.

“You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?”

Spectre opens his mouth, and initially, no sound comes out, but despite it, he finds his voice again, letting his tone be as honest and sympathetic as it’s never been in his life. “I’m afraid so, yes. Ryoken-sama and I might come off as aggressive, I can admit that, but we’re only looking out for us and for all of you. We have the means to keep you safe and dismantle Hanoi from its root… we just need you all to cooperate first, and I guess clearing things up doesn’t hurt.”

The Ignis makes another wet sound that Spectre isn’t quite sure where it’s coming from – it doesn’t seem to have ears, and it’s downright questionable where its voice it’s coming from – but this time he stretches out his hand as an offering like he did earlier, and the Ignis stares at it for a few seconds before taking it, its hand so small in comparison that it hits Spectre, for the first time, that while these little aliens might be dangerous, they are also delicate— literal confused newborns. Once again, he thinks about Playmaker’s Ignis seemingly quite adaptation to sudden life, and wonders if the personality of the origins has anything to do with how the Ignis themselves turn out.

“Can you promise?” The Ignis asks, making eye contact. Spectre swallows, fully prepared to lie if it’s necessary, but there’s a part of him that doesn’t want to have to make fake promises for once. In a way, meeting the Ignis feels a lot like finding a missing puzzle piece— but he’s too compromised to let that fully sway his logic. “Can you promise we will all be safe?”

Spectre sighs with no little amount of relief, because this is something he can be honest about. “I can’t. We will try our hardest, but there are no guarantees when it comes to this. Even then, we’re probably your best chance at survival.”

The Ignis nods like it actually understands and even expected that answer, standing up from the ground and stepping fully over Spectre’s hand. He brings him up to face level, which is a bit awkward, but the Ignis holds on to him and gets comfortable, even if its expression is still grim.

“Alright,” it nods, sounding uncertain yet resigned to this decision. “I will trust you. But only as long as you and the doctor’s son don’t try anything weird.”

“Great,” Spectre says, shooting the Ignis a grin and raising an eyebrow. “Now, what shall I name you? Can’t have you walking around without a name.”

It tilts its head to the side and hums, thinking about it with a furrowed. A couple of seconds later, the Ignis lights up, and with the most cheerful voice Spectre’s heard from it so far, it says: “Earth!”

“Ah,” Spectre shakes his head, trying not to be too rude. So much for originality. “We’ll call it a work in progress, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> baby boy earth is baby boy.


End file.
